Tribute Victor Mentor Spy
by BensonFan711
Summary: We all know Katniss' story, but what happened in the rest of Panem? Join Arista Waters, Victor of the 59th Games & District 4 Mentor for the 74th Games as she takes you through her story, and her key role in the Mockingjay Rebellion!
1. Chapter 1

_I started this fic before, but I didn't like the timeline. I kept coming up with important details that should have been shown during Training, so instead of starting from the beginning of the 74th Games, we're starting at the Reaping. _

_Usual rules apply, Suzanne Collins is awesome, and she owns Hunger Games. Arista is mine, and her story is mine._

**Chapter 1**

The sun made it's way up the sky as I sat on the back porch of my home in the Victor's Village of District Four sipping a cup of strong tea. I had gone to bed last night and tossed and turned for a couple of hours before giving up on sleep altogether. It was a bad night. Whenever I closed my eyes, I could see the ghosts of dead tributes before me, haunting me. The lives that I had taken, the lives that I had lost. I always thought it would get better over time, but fifteen years after my own battle in the Hunger Games, those images still haunted me.

"You're awake already?" my mother asked as she came through the back door. I looked up at her and smiled.

"I think it's more like I'm still awake," I said, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. She took a seat in the chair next to me and poured herself a cup from the pot on the table. Ever since I returned from the Games, my mother had made it her personal mission to help me readjust to my new life as a Victor. Unfortunately, I don't think I've adjusted as well as anyone had hoped.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently. I shrugged.

"Same old thing, really. Getting to the point where I'm almost asleep and then panicking because I'm sure someone will kill me in my sleep," I told her. She had heard this story before. In fact, it happened pretty much every night before the Reaping. I've been mentoring tributes from District Four for the past fifteen years, and I've only managed to bring one home alive. "How long do we have?" I asked.

"Your escorts will be here in about an hour," she said.

"Then I suppose I'd better go get ready for them," I answered. I kissed her gently on the cheek and padded to the bathroom. I turned on the shower and stood underneath the warm spray, hoping that it would remove some of my anxiety. It didn't. It never did. I scrubbed body completely. After about five years of being spoiled and pampered by stylists from the Capitol, they had finally decided that I knew how to present myself, and I no longer had to deal with them. At least, not here. When we got to the Capitol, that would all change. I thought about the young girls in our District. I didn't know many of them, by choice, so I couldn't speculate on who might be chosen to compete this year.

Finishing my shower, I dried off and selected a tailored skirt and blouse for today. I applied a small amount of make up, as I had been taught to do years ago, to accentuate my youth and best features. I wore my hair loose so that the long dark curls framed my face. My stylist would approve.

"Arista!" my mother called. Perfect timing.

"I'm coming!" I called back. I glided down the stairs as I had been taught to do. As a Victor, I was hailed as somewhat of a celebrity, which meant that I didn't rush anywhere. I took my time. It was a walk of confidence and importance.

"Ms. Waters," the Peacekeeper greeted me. "The car is waiting."

"Thank you," I said to him. I turned to my mother. "See you at the square?" I asked. She nodded.

"Of course, and we can have lunch before you leave," she answered. The Reapings were scattered throughout the day, so that the citizens of Panem could theoretically watch them all live, but that really only happened in the Capitol. In the other Districts, like ours, they had their own Reapings to attend, so inevitably, a couple would be missed. Ours was slated for 11:00am.

The Peacekeeper held open the back door of the car for me to slide in. He shut the door, and I had to take a minute to calm my breathing. The sound of the latch always made me panic a little. The first time I had ever been in a car was when I had been driven to the train station as a tribute. It reminded me of being sealed inside a coffin. I managed to regain control of my breathing by the time the Peacekeeper took his place in the driver's seat.

"This should be an interesting year, ma'am," he commented.

"Oh? What have you heard?" I asked.

"Rumors, mostly. Nothing concrete. May even get a couple of volunteers this year," he said, almost excitedly. Damn. I hate volunteers. That hadn't been popular in District Four until we went on a winning streak, producing three winners in a matter of ten years, beginning with me in the Fifty-Ninth Games. I always found volunteer tributes to be too cocky for their own good. They came in thinking they were the perfect killing machines with the perfect strategy, and I couldn't possibly have anything worthwhile to contribute to their victory plan. The difference between all of my volunteers and me is that I actually survived my Games. None of them did.

"It's a good day for the Reaping," the Peacekeeper said, trying to keep up the conversation. I looked outside. The sun was shining and a handful of white clouds dotted the sky. The breeze from the sea brought the perfect amount of coolness and tinged the air with the slight scent of salt.

"Yes, it is," I agreed, as if there could ever be perfect weather for sentencing two teenagers to death. Mercifully, we finished the rest of the trip in silence. As we pulled up to the Justice Building, I noticed a small crowd had already gathered. Fans. Hunger Games enthusiasts. People too old to be eligible for the Reaping. How easy it was to become jaded when the immediate threat of the Games no longer lurked over you or your loved ones. But, no matter what my personal feelings were, I was part of the show, too. The Peacekeepers in the square created a passageway from the door of my car to the stage. I stepped out of the car as soon the driver opened the door. Flashing my best smile, I stepped out of the car and paused to wave to the crowd. Cheers echoed off of the buildings in the square. The Peacekeeper offered me his arm, and I took it as I was led into the side door of the Justice Building.

"Arista!" greeted Chase Bobble, our Capitol liason. He approached me and kissed me quickly on each cheek. He had been assigned to District Four for as long as I could remember, and he was my escort during my Games. "How are you doing? Don't you just love Reaping Day?" Yeah, sure, Chase. I love picking which kids in my district are going to die soon. I forced a smile and nodded. I could blame him though. He was always an airhead.

"You're bringing home another victor this year, right, Arista?" came the voice of Tristan Poole, our mayor.

"That's the plan, Mayor," I answered.

"Good. That's what I like to hear," he said, shaking my hand. Outside, I heard the crowd erupt in another flourish of cheers. Someone else must be arriving. Sure enough, the legendary Finnick Odair stepped through the doors of the Justice Building. He won nine years ago, and the more time passed, the bigger his ego got. I didn't mind him, though. Then again, I knew a very different side to him, having lived next door to him for the past nine years. I waited until the officials were done greeting and fussing over him before I pulled him over to the snack table.

"Any thoughts going in?" I asked him. We had been mentoring together for the past eight years, and I could usually read him like a book. While we had talked general strategy throughout the year, it was hard to come up with anything specific too far in advance when there were so many variables. The tributes, their skills, their willingness to cooperate with us strategically, the arena itself…all of these were factors that would be revealed in time.

"I can tell you what the rumors are. There aren't any boys who are quite ready to compete yet, but there's a girl who's been itching for her chance in the arena," he informed me. Damn. That meant that my tribute was going to be the volunteer.

Finnick had an amazing ability to be able to detach emotionally from his tributes. He knew most of them from town, and he liked to socialize with other people in the District when he could. I was the exact opposite. I rarely left the Victor's Village except when required on days like today. I just didn't want to know the twelve to eighteen year olds in my district because I couldn't bear to watch someone I knew die. I already when through that. It hurts like hell. But Finnick, Finnick was amazing at it.

"I really wish they wouldn't volunteer," I told him.

"Yeah, but ever since someone negotiated District Four into the Career alliance, it's been popular," he said. I had negotiated that pact, and I did it to try to keep a twelve-year-old alive. It was an act of desperation that failed miserably. I had schmoozed the mentors of Districts One and Two until they agreed to talk to their tributes about taking Four in as part of their pack. And it had worked. My little twelve-year-old, Alina, had been a scavenger. She could find food like nobody's business, and when their own food stash had been destroyed by an avalanche the Gamemakers created, she proved her worth. When it came down to the final six, they had killed the boy tribute from Four and quickly turned on little Alina. Her face haunted me more frequently than the others.

"What can she do?" I asked.

"I think the easier question is what _can't_ she do," Finnick replied. "Her survival skills are top notch; she can make a fire by rubbing two sticks together, and she's deadly with pretty much any sort of projectile weapon. She's been drilled on edible plants, and she can swim like a fish. She's a little on the slow side, so she won't fair well in a chase, but all in all, she's a good contender."

"But does she listen?" I asked him.

"That I don't know. And if she doesn't, well, her blood won't be on your hands," he said.

"You know it's not that simple," I told him. He leaned in an spoke softly to me.

"You've got to stop taking this so personally. It'll tear you up if you don't," he said.

"I know, and trust me, once I figure out how to do that, I will. I could certainly use the sleep," I said.

"Mr. Odair, Ms. Waters," a voice interrupted. I turned toward it and saw that it was another Peacekeeper. "It's time to take you to the stage."


	2. Chapter 2

_I started this fic before, but I didn't like the timeline. I kept coming up with important details that should have been shown during Training, so instead of starting from the beginning of the 74th Games, we're starting at the Reaping._

_Usual rules apply, Suzanne Collins is awesome, and she owns Hunger Games. Arista is mine, and her story is mine._

**Chapter 2**

The four of us are led to the stage. When we exit the Justice Building, some start cheering and there is polite applause, but my attention is diverted to the square center looming beyond the stage. Ropes have been placed, corralling off the eligible children for this year's Games.

_I'm sorry,_ I thought as I took my place on the stage.

The clock in the square chimed eleven times, and Mayor Poole stepped up to the podium. He was telling the history of Panem. I had heard this so many times before, I could probably recite it in my sleep, assuming I could sleep. I wondered about the kids in front of me. How many of them were training to become tributes themselves? How many of them were terrified that their name would come out of the reaping ball? How many felt the odds weren't in their favor because they were forced to be on the tesserae system to survive?

Tesserae could mean the difference between life and death. By law, you have to enter your name into the Reaping pool once per year from the ages of twelve to eighteen, but the entries never come out until you age out. If your family is poor, like many of the families in District Four, you can sign up for a tessera, which is a year's supply of grain and oil. My parents were always hesitant to go that route, and they only wanted to take it as a last resort. However, most of the fish we caught in my family's fishery we sold or sent off the Capitol, leaving us with whatever was left over. Sometimes it was enough; sometimes it wasn't. My brother used to carry two tesserae, which was enough to stretch our resources to the point where we weren't in danger of starving. When I turned twelve, I shared the burden, and we took one apiece. My mind drifted back to another day like this, fifteen years ago…

"_Where do you think you're going, Arista?" my mother asked without even looking up from the sink. I had been trying to sneak outside for a quick dip in the sea before I had to face the rest of the day. Today wasn't like any other days. Today was Reaping Day, and truth be told, I would have much rather been fishing or even going to school._

"_Nowhere," I answered innocently, frantically searching around for something to use as an excuse. I grabbed a ribbon that had somehow fallen on the floor. "Just looking for my hair ribbon." Now my mother looked at me, dressed in my usual swimming attire with a jacket hastily thrown over the top._

"_Not today. March yourself straight back to your room and make yourself presentable," my mother ordered. She was taller than me, and even though I'm sixteen, she can still scare the living daylights out of me. I knew it was useless to try to sneak out now that Mom was on high alert, so I had no choice but to go back to my room and do what she asked. She had laid out a pale yellow dress that she had finished making recently, which would show off my sun-darkened complexion nicely. I shrugged myself into it and began the arduous task of trying to locate shoes. I had just found the left one, and there was a knock on the door._

"_Come in!" I called. _

"_Come here, honey. Let's get your hair done," she said. She had that look on her face. My brother and I called it her Reaping Day Look. It was another reason to hate this day._

_It was a bad year, though. We had had a case of red tide, a toxic algae that destroys most of the edible fish. With Reef no longer being eligible, the burden of the tesserae fell squarely on my shoulders, and I signed up for four this year, increasing my odds of being chosen even more. I tried not to give it much thought, though, because without the tesserae, we would have either starved or frozen to death. I like to watch the Games as much as anyone else, perhaps moreso, because I love watching the strategies the different tributes take and trying to anticipate what the Gamemakers will do next. It's actually kind of fun, provided you aren't one of the twenty-four children in the arena._

_But today…today was the day we would pick which kids went to the Games. I guess everyone who had family that was eligible, or was eligible themselves, was a little nervous. And then there was Mom. If I really stopped to think about it, I think Mom was just plain terrified. My older brother Reef was nineteen and made it all the way through without ever getting chosen. Besides, there are so many names in the reaping balls that the odds of being picked are really, really small._

"_Ok, there you go," Mom said, giving me a slight tap on the shoulder. I gave my hair a test shake. She had tied my long black curls back with a yellow ribbon that matched my dress, leaving a few curls loose to frame my face. I've always been told I'm pretty, but again, I never gave that much thought. Mom miraculously pulled my right shoe from under my bed and handed it to me. I shoved my foot into it, and we left, with Dad and Reef to walk the short distance to the square. As we approached the square, I peeled off to join the other sixteen year old girls. As soon as I arrived, my arms were grabbed by Aariyah and Laguna, my two best friends. I took my spot as the center of the trio, where we would remain until the girl tribute had been announced. My stomach was already doing flip flops. _

_As usual, the stage had been erected in front of the Justice building, and four chairs were set up. Three were occupied. One by Myor Tristan Poole, another by Chase Bobble, and the third for Mags. I have no idea what her last name is because she's just been "Mags" for as long as I can remember. She's in her sixties, and a previous victor in the Hunger Games. So, she'll be mentoring this year. Good._

_Chase glanced at the clock in the square with an annoyed look and whispered something to Mayor Poole. He stood up and left the stage._

"_Who's the other mentor this year?" I asked my friends._

"_No idea," Aariyah said. "So far the only person to show up is Mags." Not unusual. While the Reaping was required attendance for every citizen, Victors were granted special treatment. The could gather for a private live screening in the center of the Victor's Village. District Four had three victors at this point, and it was no secret that Mags desperately wanted to add to that number. Mayor Poole returned with Derrick West, a frail old man who had won the Twelfth Hunger Games. Chase Bobble took the stage precisely as the clock tower chimed 11:00._

"_Good morning, fair citizens! We are gathered today to announce the young man and woman who will be chosen to compete in this year's Hunger Games. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor!" he said in a fake happy voice that made me want to roll my eyes. _

"_Ladies first!" Chase chirped. I started paying attention again. He reached his hand into the reaping ball and drew out a slip of paper._

"_Arista Waters!" he read merrily. I literally felt the blood in my face drain. I felt dizzy for a moment, and sure I was going to faint. I think if Aariyah and Laguna hadn't been holding me up, I probably would have passed out. I heard a wail from the crowd that must have been my mother. _No, Arista, don't be weak. Weaklings perish,_ I told myself. The Peacekeepers flanked me and escorted me up to the stage. Yep, the wailing woman was my mother. She was being supported by my father and brother while she sobbed into my father's chest._

"_Are there any volunteers?" Chase asked. Of course not, you fool. Twenty-four go in and only one comes out. Would you bet on those odds?_

"_Well, it looks like Arista is our female tribute!" he announced._

When my mind returned to the present, the Mayor was up to the list of previous victors. We had seven. Three were deceased, Mags, Finnick Odair, Annie Cresta, and me. We were one of the luckier districts in that we had more than two living Victors who could mentor the tributes in the Games. Although, for the past eight years, the duty had fallen to Finnick and me. Mags had decided, once she thought I was good enough, that she wanted to retire. After all she had done for us, it seemed fair. I mentored Annie. So far, she's the only tribute I ever brought home, but poor Annie was so traumatized at the sight of seeing her district partner decapitated in the arena that she was never the same. Finnick and I were the only ones who were capable of handling the sort of baggage that came with marching children to their deaths, so we were the District Four team. I liked having him as a partner.

Mayor Poole had turned the mike over to Chase. I sat forward slightly in my chair. This was the moment I had been waiting for.

"Greetings from the Capitol and Happy Hunger Games!" His speech may have changed slightly over the years, but he still make me want to puke. "It's that time of year where we choose a courageous young man and woman to represent District Four in this years Hunger Games. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor!" As always, he approached the girls' reaping ball first.

"This year's female tribute is…" he paused while he fished around for a slip of paper. "…Cascade Torrent!" I scanned the crowd of girls. The Peacekeepers flanked a terrified girl who had to be fifteen or sixteen. Still, she looked athletic enough. I could work with her.

"Are there any volunteers?" Chase asked the group of girls.

"I volunteer!" another teenager shouted from the back of the crowd. The girls parted, and the owner of the voice stepped forward, head held high, sporting a cocky lopsided grin. I crossed my legs, narrowed my eyes, and leaned back. Finnick was right. There was one ready to volunteer.

_You're an idiot, kid,_ I thought. Somehow, I was going to have to figure out how to get past that arrogance and get through to her, if she stood any chance at all at surviving these Games. I turned my attention and toyed with my fingernails, trying my absolute best to look bored. _Fine, you think you're ready? Impress me,_ I thought.

"And what is your name, young lady?" Chase asked the girl once she was on stage.

"Coral Fisher," she announced. She seemed…excited. If I was allowed to bet, I'd put money that this one's going down quickly. _No Arista, stop it. You can do this. You can bring this one home,_ I told myself.

"Let's hear it for Coral, everyone!" Chase announced and the audience roared. _Idiots! I live with a bunch of idiots!_

"And now, the young man who will be joining Coral will be…" Chase reached around in the second reaping ball for another slip of paper. "…Hunter Cousteau!" The Peacekeepers honed in on one of the boys. He looked to be about fourteen or fifteen. I glanced sideways at Finnick. He seemed pleased.

"Are there any volunteers?" Chase asked again. No one stepped forward to take Hunter's place. Finnick was right again. Too bad the mentor assignments were already made. I'd rather take the boy who looked like he was about to wet himself over an arrogant volunteer any day. Oh well, I was just going to have to make it work. Somehow.

_**More to come soon! And, I love reviews! Go on…click the blue button…you know you want to.**_


	3. Chapter 3

_Usual rules apply, Suzanne Collins is awesome, and she owns Hunger Games. Arista is mine, and her story is mine._

**Chapter 3**

The sound of the anthem and the cheering of the crowd announced the end of the ceremony. The sun had reached its peak in the sky. Inside the Justice Building, the tributes would be allowed an hour to say their final good-byes to friends and family. Food would be provided, a beginning to the almost constant stream of nourishment they would experience in the coming week, but as a mentor, I am allowed to leave, so long as I return before it was time to board the train. And, I'll shadowed by a Peacekeeper, as a precaution.

I quickly crossed the square to a small café that served the small population of well-to-do citizens in the district. My mother had already selected a table on the patio and ordered drinks.

"Hey, Mom," I said, kissing her on the cheek, and taking a chair across from her. I glanced back at the Justice Building, poignantly aware of what must be taking place for Hunter and Coral.

When I was a tribute, I think this hour was the hardest. No matter how many times I stared death in the face in the arena, it was this hour that I could barely stand…

"_Arista!" Mom cried, rushing through the door to pull me into her arms. I was in one of the interior rooms of the Justice Building, decorated in the finest upholstered furniture and a small table and chairs. A buffet had been laid out with the sort of food that was so beautiful it seemed criminal to eat it. And yet, for the first time in my life, I found myself turning down free food. My near constant state of hunger disappeared the moment Chase read my name on that stupid piece of paper._

"_Oh, sweetie, if I had known…I never would have let you sign up for that many tesserae," Mom said, pressing my face to her chest. She was mostly talking to my hair. Still, I wanted to remember Mom like this, holding me and shielding out the cruelties of the world. _

"_Mom, you're hurting me," I finally said when my lungs could no longer take the crushing pressure of her hug. She relaxed her grip, but wouldn't stop touching me. My father and brother took seats in the two armchairs in the room while I sat on the sofa. Mom's hands never left me, and even as we sat there, her hand was on my back or stroking my hair. _

"_Ris, listen to me," my brother said almost frantically. He took my hand and waited until I looked in his face._

"_How many times have we watched and critiqued the Games together?" he asked. He was right. Every year, we figured out what we thought was the best winning strategy for each tribute, and we were quick to point out the single, dumb action that had cost them their lives._

"_Lots," I answered._

"_You can do this, Ris, I know you can. You read people so easily. Use that when you're in the arena. Team up with other tributes, because you can sense when they're about to turn on you. That's your strength, kid. Exploit it," he said. I couldn't believe my brother was already talking strategy._

"_And don't forget what a talented little fisherman you are," my dad added._

"_Dad, this isn't a fishing contest," I said._

"_Who says it isn't? As long as there's a body of water in there, you'll be ok. Just make sure you don't put ANYTHING in your mouth you didn't already see someone else eat, you hear me?" he said sternly. My confusion must have shown on my face. "Maybe you were too young to remember, but in the Fiftieth Games, everything was poisoned except the food at the Cornucopia and rainwater." I nodded. I didn't want to speak because I was afraid I would start crying, but there was so much I had to tell them. All of a sudden, sixteen years didn't seem like it was long enough. I wanted more time with them._

"_Play to your strengths, Honey. Always put yourself in a position to have a strategic edge," Dad said. _

"_Dad…" I started. I wasn't sure what else to say._

"_I know, Honey," he said softly._

"_I've been working on fixing those old fishing nets. You know, I think we can still use them if we just replace the weak links," I said, trying to get the focus off the Games. I'd have all week for strategy. I just wanted this to be as close to normal as possible._

"_I'll take care of it," Reef said softly. There was a soft rap on the door._

"_Your time is almost up," the Peacekeeper said, almost somberly._

"_I guess this is where we say good-bye," I said softly. My father hugged me first, and as soon as he let go, he practically ran from the room. It was his way of not letting me see him cry, but he wasn't fast enough. I had seen it. That was the one and only time I had ever seen it, and it scared the hell out of me. Reef was next._

"_Win," he said in my ear as we embraced. "I think it'll kill Mom if you don't." He was right, and I knew it. _

"_I'll do my best," I whispered back to him._

"_I love you, Kid," he said. Mom was last. She grasped my arms and turned me toward her while she sat back on the couch._

"_Listen to me," she said. "do whatever you can to win, but know that no matter what, I love you more than anything. I want you to take this," she said, unclasping the silver chain around her neck. Dangling from it was a silver dolphin. She had worn that necklace for as long as I can remember. I don't think she ever took it off until now. _

"_I can't…" I said._

"_Yes, you can," she said, fastening the chain around my neck. "If the worst happens, know…know that I'm there with you in spirit, even if I can't physically be there. You're not alone, Arista. Keep it as a reminder of just how much I love you. I want that to be the last thing you remember in this world." No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop the flood of tears from sliding down my cheeks. _

"_Mommy…" I said. She stood up and held me close to her again, rocking me softly. I sobbed against her chest as the gravity of my situation hit home. She was ready for a funeral. But was I ready to die? Would it hurt? Would I ever feel the comfort of her arms again? _

"_I love you…" she whispered over and over._

"_Ma'am, your time is up," the Peacekeeper said. She didn't move. I tried to stop crying and regain my composure, thinking this would give her the hint that she needed to go._

"_Ma'am, please," the Peacekeeper said again, taking one of her arms. I heard her breath catch. She was going to lose it too._

"_Just one more minute," she begged. Another Peacekeeper appeared seemingly from nowhere, and the next thing I knew, she was literally being dragged out of the room. Wait, I hadn't told her I love her yet._

"_I love you!" I yelled to Mom just before they took her. _

"_I'll take her; she won't be any trouble," I heard my dad say out in the hallway. I hoped my mom would be ok. Reef was right. It probably would kill her to watch my death. Well, the odds are that, unless I die at the Cornucopia, I'll be responsible for any number of deaths. It just hurts like hell that my mother's would probably be the first one on that list._

I think that day was probably the most painful day of my life. Never mind that I was a wreck, still hanging to this world by a very thin string when they finally pulled me out of the arena. My entire body screamed in pain, but that was only a shadow of what it felt to say good-bye.

"You can't think about it," Mom said softly. I gave her a sad smile.

"I know, I just…" I started and shook my head. I couldn't put words to what I was feeling.

"Just do your job as best you can, and whatever you do, don't get too attached," she said softly. I nodded. Mom smiled. "But I know you too well. You'll take this on as a personal mission." I smiled. I think she knew me better than I knew myself.

"I'm going to miss you, Mom," I said, laughing slightly.

"I always miss you when you're in the Capitol, but at least I don't have to worry about you getting killed this time," she said. _Well, that's partly true, Mom._ No, I couldn't talk to her about that yet. It was a secret I had been keeping for fifteen years, and I wasn't ready to share that with her just yet. It would only hurt her. It was better for her to be oblivious.

"So, any thoughts?" she asked as we dipped into our lunch, which was a chilled vegetable soup. It was light, and the perfect addition to the sultry heat that had built throughout the morning.

"She volunteered," I said.

"Arista, that doesn't mean anything…" my mother started.

"Well, it means she's not very smart," I said, cutting her off.

"I really wish you would stop judging people so harshly," she said.

"Old habits die hard, I guess. Besides, it's kept me alive for this long; I see no reason to change," I said. I wasn't trying to be cruel, but I listened to my gut. And my gut hadn't failed me yet.

"Give her a chance," Mom said.

"I will, but I'm going to have to break through that cockiness," I said. "She's the most dangerous kind of tribute there is," I said. I dabbed the corner of my mouth with my napkin and returned it to my lap. "She's fearless, and she has a false sense of her abilities. Her ego's been pumped up by everyone around her. She needs to be afraid because fear is what tells you when to back off. I can't save her life if she doesn't listen to me because in that arena, she won't necessarily be the best." Mom reached across the table and stroked my hand.

"Just do your job," she repeated. "Help her as much as you can, but sometimes, you have to stand back and accept your own powerlessness." I knew all about powerlessness. I knew all about standing by and watching people die needlessly. "Oh, before I forget, you left this at home. I figured you might need it." She slid a necklace across the table. It consisted of a vial with decorative dolphins wrapped around it, but what I was more concerned about was the white powder concealed inside it. I knew what it was, and so did Mom. It was the only way to cope with the ghosts that plagued my mind.

"Thanks," I said, slipping the piece around my neck. I glanced up at the clock. "I suppose this is where we say good-bye." I stood up and gave my mother a hug and a kiss on the cheek before dropping a few coins on the table to take care of the meal. "I'll be back in a few weeks."

"I love you," she said, and this time when I left, she was smiling.

_**Is anyone reading this? Reviews are always appreciated! **_


	4. Chapter 4

_Usual rules apply, Suzanne Collins is awesome, and she owns Hunger Games. Arista is mine, and her story is mine._

**Chapter 4**

I crossed back to the Justice Building with my Peacekeeper in tow. I appreciated that he kept a respectful distance and didn't try to maintain a conversation. I needed to think. The row of cars was already lined up at the Justice Building, and I walked up to mind, third in the procession. Franz would have the first car, followed by Finnick, then me, and our two tributes would bring up the rear. At least there wouldn't be guards in our car. The tributes may be honored, but let's face it, they're being led to the slaughter, so they're guarded as fiercely as the most heinous criminals.

Once settled in the soft leather seat of the car, I unscrewed the vial on the necklace. I shook out a few grains into the cap, place the cap under my nose and took a deep sniff. I groaned in relief and leaned back in the seat as I felt the drug coursing through my body. God, I needed that. It's called Tranquilite, and it inhibits the emotional center of the brain. Effectively, you feel numb. Not physically numb, but emotionally numb, and that was what I needed to get through the Games. The Capitol started me on it almost immediately after my Games. I was supposed to wean off it, but I never managed to do it. I had enough friends in the Capitol to keep me supplied, and it was exactly what I needed to survive the emotional upheaval I couldn't process on my own.

Already, I could feel a change. The tension I had been holding faded as my muscles relaxed. My mind was focused on strategy, and only on strategy. The first question I had to answer was whether or not Finnick wanted to work with me this year. Our tributes competed against each other, so it varied from year to year. Sometimes we went about with our own separate tributes, and others we negotiated a temporary alliance between our tributes.

As we pulled into the train station, I quickly adjusted the powder container and let the decorative piece hang from my neck innocently. I slid out of the car with my usual grace and charm, paused for a few minutes so that the cameras could gobble up my image, and stepped onto the train. Really only District Four would see the footage of me. The rest of Panem was far more concerned with the actual tributes. Still, it's considered good form to put on a show for the audience at every step of the Games.

Before I knew it, the tributes were onboard, and the attendants from the Capitol were making final preparations before departure.

"So, Arista, I'm really glad to meet you. You're an amazing mentor, and I was really hoping they would pick you this year," Coral said, offering her hand. _Flattery will get you nowhere, kid._ My arms were crossed over my chest, and I narrowed my eyes at her. I turned on my heel and strode purposefully towards my quarters farther back in the train, leaving a stunned Coral in the sitting room.

"What's wrong with her?" I heard her ask Finnick as I walked. I reached the second door, and wrenched the knob open. Strangely, this place felt like a second home of sorts. After I shut the door, the sounds from the rest of the train were drowned out. I swear, the Capitol designers put something in the walls to keep the sound out. I flopped, rather ungracefully, into my favorite overstuffed chair. _Let her figure that one out, _I thought, finally being able to surrender to the exhaustion in my body. Chase would be oblivious to what I was doing, but Finnick, Finnick had seen me in action enough that he would catch on. And he would play along.

I was tired. The lack of sleep from the previous night, and my restless nights from the previous week was catching up to me. I needed to close my eyes, just for a few minutes. Then, maybe I could get some work done.

_I stared out the window, watching the only home I had ever known roll away. The room I was in was even more opulent than the Justice Building had been. I wondered if maybe I really could do this, if I could win. But if I was truly honest with myself, the answer was probably not. I was strong, but I was small. Well, small compared to the boys that were sure to come from the other districts. There was only so much my barely 110 pound frame could do. I was quick, but they would be, too. And I could read people. At least, that's what Reef had said._

"_Are you hungry, Arista? You didn't eat much for lunch," came a soft voice belonging to Mags._

"_No," I said softly. The only thing I wanted was to be home celebrating with my mom's "Bottom of the Sea" stew. Ok, that's what she called it to make it sound more exciting, but it was really just a jumble of whatever seafood we caught in a fish stock, seasoned with herbs. If we had it, she would add something starchy like rice or potatoes, and I knew that she had made a trade earlier today for some decent-looking potatoes. I wondered if my family would eat it today, or if, like me, they had lost their appetites. I hoped that they would eat, because food shouldn't go to waste like that._

"_I was just about to have a snack. Are you sure you won't join me?" Mag said. I turned toward her. A bowl of some sort of thick soup had already been set at two place settings, along with a plate of fruit and cheese. A basket of bread was in the center of the table._

"_That's a snack?" I asked her as my eyes widened. Mags smiled. _

"_There's only one course, so yes, this is a snack by Capitol standards," she answered. "Come on, you must be starving." She extended her hand to me, and I took it, like a frightened animal. _

"_You're scared. That's good," she said, still smiling. I settled in one of the chairs at the table. The smell of the food was intoxicating, and my body finally decided to function again. I was ravenous. I took a small bite of the soup, and before I knew it, I was pulling the spoon to my mouth so fast I couldn't talk. _

"_When was the last time you had a proper meal, dear?" Mags asked. I thought about that one. I was having a hard time remembering the last time I felt truly satisfied._

"_It's been a while," I confessed._

"_Well, eat as much as you want. There's plenty more where that came from," she said._

"Arista…Arista…" I heard somewhere in the distance. My eyes snapped open, and I sprung to my feet, ready to defend myself. I took in my surroundings. The voice belonged to Finnick, who wisely, was standing on the other side of the room.

"Jesus, Finnick. Don't sneak up on me like that," I said.

"I didn't," he said, with a cocky grin. "Why do you think I'm standing over here?" I sat back in my chair.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"We have about an hour before dinner," he said, and without invitation, he sat in the other chair opposite me. I pushed a button next to me, and almost immediately, a dark haired Avox was in my room setting up a tea service on the small coffee table in front of me.

"So, what are they like?" I asked Finnick.

"You mean, what's _she_ like," he said. It was a statement, not a question.

"Ok, what's _she_ like," I mocked back.

"I figured you'd already have an assessment of your own," he said.

"Ok, here's what I think. Her head's too big for her. She's the queen bee in school, the one all of the other girls want to impress and all the boys want to date. She's been training for the Games since she was big enough to pick up a weapon, and her skills are somewhere between great and jaw-dropping. She's studied the Games with a fervor in order to gain every strategic advantage possible, and everyone around her has filled her head with the idea that she has nothing to worry about, because she's amazing enough to win," I finished. "How am I doing so far?" Fin contemplated my words.

"I'd say…that's pretty close," he said. "How do you do that?" I shrugged.

"It's a curse," I answered.

"So," I said, taking a sip of my tea. God, I love the flavors the Capitol came up with. This was a dark, almost black tea, with just a hint of something fruity. And it was strong enough to wake me up. Our light herbal versions paled in comparison to this. "What happened after I left?"

"Well, she asked me what your problem was," he said.

"And?" I prompted.

"And I told her that you didn't have much respect for volunteers," he said. Good. That was a test question. She was supposed to think she screwed up.

"And how did she react?" I asked.

"Well, she sort of rolled her eyes and said that you had to help her, and that you needed to get over yourself," he said. Wrong answer, kid. I pondered his words, choosing my next move carefully.

"Ok, so here's what we're going to do. I'm going to take dinner in here tonight. Let her stew for a little bit, and tonight, if you're willing, really pound on the terrifying parts of the Games. You know, like when you had the tributes from District One on your back in your Games, and you were sure you were dead, and then the trident arrived. You can also throw in a few stories about tributes holding their intestines to keep them from spilling out while frantically trying to escape a pursuer. Just go with it. But, make her very aware of the fact that those tributes rebounded because of something his or her mentor did. She needs to understand that she's going to need help in there," I said.

"And you're going to be a bitch," he said. I smiled.

"And I'm going to be a bitch," I repeated, raising my eyebrow and taking another sip of my tea. "The last thought I want rolling around in that airhead brain of hers is that *I* control what goes into that arena and when. I'm perfectly free to sit in the Mentor's Box and not make a single call on her behalf."

"Are you planning to watch the recap of the other reapings?" he asked. "Or are you going hole up in here all night?" I considered this. It would be far more intimidating if she didn't see me until morning, but I needed to know who we were up against.

"No, I'll come watch," I said. "But you should go to dinner. I don't want the girl to think I'm working on her behalf just yet." Finnick shook his head at me and left. He had seen this before, and after the first volunteer tribute…

_The usual commotion was occurring in the Mentor's Box. We were all seated in our fine leather chairs, poised with headsets and ready for the Games to begin. Many of the other mentors were juggling plates piled high with grilled meats, broiled potatoes, roasted vegetables, creamy cheeses and fresh fruit. A few of us, myself included, would wait until at least the initial bloodshed was over before eating. My nerves were getting me. There's something about having a teenager's life in your hands that made me downright nauseous. My stomach churned._

"_Get away from the Cornucopia," I had told her. "One and Two will be gunning for you, and neither of us has been successful at securing an alliance with them like we hoped. You scored high in your Training sessions, and they'll peg you as a threat. You're no match for well-fed, blood-thirsty, freshly armed Careers. The minute that gong sounds, I want you to run. I'll get you whatever you need, just get the hell out of there." _

"_I can take care of myself," she said coolly. Damn that kid. She came with her own strategy and expected me to go along with it. She wanted to forge an alliance with the Career pack, like I had done with Alina the year before. That had proved to be a total disaster. She had tried her best to win them over in the Training Sessions, and I had talked up the One and Two mentors, willing to give her strategy a shot. But the talks had fizzled because they just couldn't see how Four could be of any use to them strategically._

_The twenty-four monitors lit up, each one focused on a single entry point. Each tribute had a camera that would follow him or her through the arena, and that's how we would know what to do. The platforms rose, and there she was…my cocky little volunteer. She poised herself on her plate to run. But wait, she was aiming for the Cornucopia, not away from it. _

"_What the hell is she doing?" I cried, jumping up from my chair and standing in front of the monitor. Great. The gong hadn't even gone off yet, and I was already swearing._

"_Let the Sixty-Seventh Hunger Games begin!" I heard the announcer say._

"_Sit down, Arista. There's nothing you can do," came the soothing voice of Haymitch Abernathy, mentor for both tributes of District Twelve. We're each supposed to have just one tribute, but since Haymitch is the only living victor in Twelve, he got both. I watched as he uncorked a bottle of white liquor and took a generous swig._

"_She's doing exactly what I told her *not* to do!" I cried. "Did you know she was going to do this?" I asked, looking directly at Finnick. She was supposed to be working with his tribute, and only his tribute. That had been my strategy. Let Four operate as a single unit. If push came to shove, they'd have a hell of a showdown at the end._

"_I *thought* the two of them were working together," he said. "I guess they didn't share their strategy with us." And then they were off. The gong had sounded while I was arguing with Finnick. I stood in front of her monitor with my jaw hanging open slightly, not believing what I was seeing on the screen. She ducked and dodged, avoiding a few tributes easily. They were focusing on the slower ones. The boys from Districts One, Two, and Eight reached the Cornucopia first. So they had allied with Eight instead. Damn them. _

_It was so fast. The boy from Eight picked up a bow, cocked it, and fired. One minute she was running, and the next, the tail of an arrow was sticking straight out of her chest, halfway impaled. I frantically hit the button on my headset._

"_This is Arista Waters of District Four," I barked. "I need a First Aid kit…bandages, disinfectant, sterile needle and thread. And pain killers."_

"_Acknowledged Ms. Waters. Package prepped and awaiting deployment orders. Please note that deployment cannot be completed during active combat," came the disembodied voice from the Deployment Center. Other mentors were clamoring into their own headsets. And then there was Haymitch, who, like very few others, merely sat by and watched the events unfold. I checked his monitors briefly. One was already out, the live image replaced with the headshot of his male tribute and the number twelve. And the other, well, she was running for her life. My eyes were glued to the monitor. She was clutching her chest and falling to her knees. _No, get the hell out of there! I can't help you if you stay in a combat zone! _She coughed and blood came up. This was bad. The monitor flickered, and went dark. And then her headshot and a four replaced the image. I glanced up at the large map of the arena over the smaller monitors. It showed an aerial view, with each tribute marked as a green dot. When the tribute died, the dot turned red, and disappeared as soon as the body was collected from the arena. The 4F (District Four, Female) dot clicked over from green to red and stilled._

"_DAMN IT!" I screamed, jerking the headset off my body and hurling it across the room. It gave a satisfying shattering sound as it hit the wall and pieces skittered across the floor. I threw myself back into my chair._

"_Here," Haymitch said, offering me the bottle. "You look like you could use a drink." I took the bottle and took a long, deep drink. The alcohol burned going down my throat, but I liked it. I liked feeling the physical pain to compliment my frustration. I swallowed the entire bottle, and the rest of that day is a blur. Somehow, I made it back to my room in the Training Center, but I'm not sure how._

_When I recovered from my drunken stupor, I realized that the error had been mine. I let my tribute control her own strategy. This is what Mags had been talking about when she said that it was good to be scared. If you're scared, you're more willing to accept your limits and take advice from those more experienced that you. If your fearless, you wind up getting yourself killed. Well, that was never going to happen again. Not on my watch._

_**I hope you're all still reading and enjoying this story, and I'd love to hear from you! Take a minute and send a review, while I interview Arista a bit more. Thanks for reading!** _


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Dinner had been exquisite, as usual, but there was work to be done, and I had to know what I was up against. I changed out of the outfit I wore to the reaping, selecting a pair of trousers and another tailored blouse from the closet of clothes provided on the train. Had I not had a volunteer, but instead a little girl was scared out of her mind, I would have chosen something a bit more casual. But I was going to have to battle this girl, Coral, for the upper hand. Another quick hit of Tranquilite, and the necklace completed the outfit. I twisted my hair up into a bun and used two ornate sticks to hold it in place. Shoes were next. I needed the right pair. I chose a pair of heeled boots that would clack on the floor as well as give me a height advantage. Plastering on my best annoyed expression and went to join the rest of my team to watch the recap of the reapings.

I cleared my throat as I made somewhat of a production about lowering myself into a stiff armchair in the viewing room. The way it was positioned, I could see the screen while still sneaking a glance at Coral from time to time. And that was what I wanted. I wanted to read her expressions as we watched the reapings. I folded my hands in my lap, kept my back straight, and my head pointed towards the screen.

"Hi, Arista. Are you hungry? We saved you some dessert," Coral asked. Ok, now I knew something else about her. She was two-faced. She had no problem hating me behind my back, but she was going to be sweet as syrup to my face. I shot her a cold look.

"No, thank you," I answered without looking at her. She opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, but quickly closed it. Meanwhile, Finnick and Hunter were like two long lost brothers, chattering away about the latest fads of the Capitol. Finnick was telling him stories of his latest trip, and Hunter was eating it up. I wanted to do that. And I would have, if I didn't have a stupid volunteer to contend with. Coral didn't need a friend; she needed someone to put her in her place. Chase joined us with a cup of coffee in his hand. The anthem played through the speakers, and the recaps began.

District One was up first. Glimmer and Marvel. Both volunteers. Typical. Who was mentoring them this year? I scanned the stage behind them. Gloss and Cashmere, apparently. Ok, I could deal with them. I had worked with them a few years ago, and as far as they were concerned, District Four was welcome in the Career pack any time. The tributes were pretty, but they could probably fight, too. I knew instantly that these two would be the face of the Career pack in all of the close ups.

District Two. Clove and Cato. They both had a wicked look to them, and they were both volunteers. In fact, there were several volunteers in Two for the female spot, and it got a bit complicated. But Cato, he barreled through the crowd like a tank and was obviously proud to be fighting in the Games. That was to be expected. I cut Two some slack because they're the Capitol's lapdogs. They're raised that it's an honor to compete in the Hunger Games every year, and considering they had an overwhelming majority of victors, they were pretty good at it. Hell, I might have volunteered if I had all of the advantages Two did.

District Three was next. Both of their tributes were reaped. Three never had volunteers. They had a very small pool of victors, and all of their victors had won by playing a mental game. That was to be expected, considering Three specializes in technology. They would be mentored by Qwerty and Beetee. Beetee was the type that loved mentoring. He was also the only surviving male victor in Three currently. Qwerty won a few years after I did, and she was hard to read. I liked her, but I didn't know her very well. Ok, an alliance with Three was probably out. It looked like our best shot this year was going to be with the Careers. Again.

And then there was District Four. Coral's fearless volunteering and Hunter's reaping. I snuck a glance at her. She looked positively smug. Hunter looked like he was about to wet himself. But I saw myself on the screen, and my obvious disapproval at the volunteer was evident. Good. Let the world see that I can't stand the stupid practice of volunteering for your own death.

The rest of the reapings were pretty typical. There was something about the girl from District Five that bugged me. I wasn't sure what it was yet, but she had a sly little look to her. She was not one to be underestimated. I broke my façade for a brief moment when a boy from District Ten stepped onto the stage with a clubbed foot. Damn it, they should at least get a fighting chance in the arena. How the hell is he supposed to survive a day if he can't run? The girl from Eleven was only twelve. Well, she'd win big favors with the sponsors because she was so damn cute. And yet, I can't remember the last time a twelve year old actually won. Seeder was her mentor. I'd have to buy her a drink after the Games. Eleven wasn't completely out, though. Her district partner, Thresh, was built like an ox. He looked like he had spent long, hard days doing physical labor, and with a physique like that, I could probably throw a spear at him and it would just bounce off.

And then there was District Twelve. Usually, by this point, the reapings have gotten repetitious. But it looked like Twelve was putting forward a bit of a show this year. A little blonde girl was chosen from the reaping ball, and before they could get to the formality of asking for volunteers, an older brunette lunged forward, crying out to volunteer. Ok, what was this girl's issue? Aha…there it was. The twelve year old was her sister.

And then something very strange happened. The entire district saluted the girl with an old funeral custom. If I hadn't been hopped up on Tranquilite, I might have actually cried. She must be a fixture in their District. Usually, I disregarded Twelve, but she had a certain look to her that I had seen before. Survival. A core of inner strength so strong, nothing could break it. This was the type of tribute that simply refused to die, and they usually won. Coral was going to be screwed if she didn't wake up and realize what was at stake.

Haymitch was yammering about how much he liked her, and that she had spunk. Uh oh, now he was challenging everyone else. Dial it back, Haymitch. Don't give the Capitol anything they can use against you. This is a dangerous business we're in. Fortunately, he was so drunk he toppled of the stage unconscious. Well, at least if he was ever interrogated, he could say he was too drunk to remember anything, and he'd be believable. The boy from Twelve was nothing remarkable, but he had a certain charm to him that the cameras would like. Twelve may actually get money out of those snobby Capitol citizens this year after all. Good for them. As long as they didn't poach any of my sponsors.

The anthem played again, and the screen went dark. I knew what I was up against now, and I could work up a pretty good idea of a kill list, based on physical prowess only. My major concerns were Cato, Thresh, and that girl from Twelve. Cato would have to wait, if I went the Career route, but he'd need to get taken out by someone before they got down to final six. Otherwise, he'd easily slaughter his district partner and the tributes from One and Four in what was sure to be a captivating scene for viewers. Thresh was bound to be a physical threat, and I'd like to see him taken out early, and the girl from Twelve, well, I didn't quite know what to make of her yet.

"Well, looks like Twelve came to the party this year," Finnick joked. We always discounted Twelve because they never put up much of a fight. He may have been joking, but he was right.

"Oh, please…" Coral started. "The last time Twelve won was twenty-four years ago."

"He's right," I said quietly. All eyes turned to me. "And you would be wise to listen to those more experienced than you are." To emphasize my point, I pointed my index finger accusingly at Coral as I said those last words. My mother did that to me when I was in trouble, and it always made me shake in fear. With that, I turned abruptly and marched back to my room, letting my heels clack menacingly.

"Bitch," I heard Coral say in my general direction. I couldn't help my smile. Maybe she'd learn before it was too late.

"Bitch or not, she's your best chance at survival," I heard Finnick tell her as I rounded the corner into my room. Way to go, Finnick. I knew I could count on you.


	6. Chapter 6

_Usual rules apply, Suzanne Collins is awesome, and she owns Hunger Games. Arista is mine, and her story is mine._

**Chapter 6**

I stripped out of my clothes and climbed back into the shower. Maybe it came from being raised in District Four, where I spent more time in or on the water than not, but I craved the feel of the warm water over my skin. I hadn't even known it was possible to have hot running water until I stepped onto the train as a tribute. I don't remember how many times I stood under the warm spray that week, but I found it to be the one place where I could really and truly be alone. When I was finished, I selected a pair of light cotton shorts and a thin cotton shirt from the drawer containing sleepwear and pulled back the covers on the soft, down bed. The necklace containing the Tranquilite was on the small table next to my bed, and I took a bigger hit than usual. That should knock me out. The soft sheets cradled my body as I slipped into unconsciousness.

_The faces of this year's tributes joined the usual cast of my nightmares. Some of them were chasing after me, others were being slaughtered. It was far more crowded that the standard cast of twenty-four tributes in any given year of the Games. Many of these people I had either personally killed, or sent to their deaths while I looked on from the Mentors' Box. I was running. And panting. Vines wrapped around my ankles, trying to trip me, and I couldn't stop falling. I'd never get away at this rate. I felt trapped, suffocated. This time, I really was going to die._ _And then…for a split second, everything was still. Wait, was I…_

I sat straight up in bed, gasping for breath. Another damn nightmare. Fuck. When would these things ever go away? I got out of bed and shook my hands, trying to get rid of some of the excess adrenaline. They were still shaking violently. The blackness outside and the small smattering of lights indicated that it must be very early in the morning. Sunrise wouldn't be for hours. Just then, there was soft rap on my door. Who could be disturbing me at this hour?

"Enter," I called.

"Hey, you ok?" It was Finnick.

"Yeah," I said, my voice still shaking. "I am now. What are you doing here?"

"Couldn't sleep," he said. I wasn't surpised. Finnick, and just about every other victor I personally knew, had trouble sleeping. If we were back in District Four, he would have gone for a walk. Walking calmed him. Here on the train, though, he settled for pacing up and down the long corridor. "I heard you screaming in your sleep, and I thought you might want a friend." Friends. I had those when I was younger, but did I really consider anyone to be a friend now? I suppose Finnick was a close to a friend as I was going to get at this point.

"Thanks," I said, taking a seat in the overstuffed chair. Finnick took the other chair.

"I miss her," Finnick said. Annie Cresta. Finnick had been madly in love with her for years. The Capitol liked to portray him as a ladies' man, but the truth of the matter was that his heart only belonged to one woman. Publicly, he went through at least one woman a day, but in Four, where we had some semblance of privacy, he was completely devoted to her.

"I know the feeling," I said. I had a love of my own, but no one, not even Finnick knew about him. And it had to stay that way. Too many lives were at stake. The truth of the situation is that we were both prisoners. That's just how the Games worked. If you died, well, they couldn't take any more from you, but if you won, then your own personal hell began. I suspected mine would begin again once we arrived at the Capitol.

"So, how many dates have they lined up for you this year?" I asked him. Finnick chuckled halfheartedly.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "None of them are her." So here we were. Two lonely souls, each pining for someone miles away. Ships crossing in the night. At least when this was all over, he would get to go back to Annie. That was a luxury I didn't have.

"How did we get here, Finnick?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" he answered.

"How did we become puppets for the Capitol? They say jump, and we say how high. Why do we do it?" I asked. His face took a somber expression.

"We became their puppets when we won. And we do it, because we know they'll never come after us. They'll go after the people we care about," he said. "I do it for Annie. And you do it for your family." That was the truth. I just needed to hear it again. I needed to hear it from someone outside of my head.

"Do you think they'll ever leave us alone?" I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Maybe. After we're no longer desirable to them, but that's not going to happen for a very, very long time," he said. Then he suddenly changed the topic. "Well, I think I'm going to try to get at least a few hours of sleep," he said, standing up.

"Yeah, I probably should, too," I said. He waited until I settled back under the covers.

"Good luck," he said softly before quietly slipping out of my room. The next thing I knew, morning had arrived, and it was time for another performance. I showered, again, and dressed in a pair of gray trousers and a black fitted top. I twisted my hair back fiercely and donned my Tranquilite necklace. I selected another set of shoes designed to make my presence known, and then I waited. It was still early, but it needed to be for what I had to do. It was finally time to confront Coral. I took another small hit of the drug and stared out the window. I could see mountains in the distance. We must be nearing the Capitol. The train left District Four at 2pm every year, and we arrived sometime shortly after breakfast. It was going to be a big day, ending with the Opening Ceremonies in City Center. I wondered what the stylists would come up with this year for costumes. It always revolves around the sea because Four's primary industry is fishing, but the stylists could be pretty creative when they wanted to be.

_I waited in nothing but a thin robe. I had been poked, prodded, and plucked by three other individuals by the names of Una, Lima, and Pela. My nails had been filed into uniform shapes, and horrified that I had bitten them almost completely off, Una had applied some sort of extension and covered it with a paste. When it was rounded down and smooth, she polished them, and I had beautiful, but terribly impractical long nails. Pela had worked some sort of magic on my scalp, and my mane of tight curls was now a long, sleek ebony sheet. Lima worked on my skin, starting with removing all of the hair on my body, save for what was on my head and a tiny bit from my eyebrows. Suddenly, the doors burst open._

"_Darling, hello!" The woman was just too…perky. Lena Bryant was the stylist for District Four, and had been for the past three year. She started with Twelve, like most of them do, and after a series of promotions, finally earned Four. Everyone wanted Two, but what they really wanted was a victor. Victors got you promoted. Especially if everyone remembered how amazing they looked. "Let me get a good look at you," she said, circling my body. I felt like an animal being appraised for sale. "My, my, yes! I can do wonders with you! It's a shame you don't live in the Capitol. You could have been a model." I had no idea what a model was, but as I would later learn, there are gorgeous people who get paid more money than I had ever seen in my life to do nothing but show off clothes. It seemed boring to me, but years of spending daylight in the water had toned my muscles nicely. As I got older, my body filled out into the perfect hourglass shape that made me feel awkward. I wasn't surprised by her assessment; I had turned more than one head in Four. _

"_Um, thank you?" I said, thinking I should say something instead of standing here gawking at this woman. _

"_Now then, you'll LOVE what we're doing for the Opening Ceremonies!" she exclaimed._

_Yeah, right. I hated what she did for the opening ceremonies. She put a fish tail around my legs so that I couldn't walk, and she had covered my breasts with small – and I mean small – seashells held together by a very thin string. My district partner had only gotten the fish tail. My hair was left loose and flowing, the locks having been twisted back into a soft wave. We were covered in some sort of weird body paint that made it seem like our bodies were covered in a thin sheet of water. I hated that stupid outfit, but the crowds had loved it. Certainly we looked better than the tributes dressed as trees from Seven or the miners from Twelve._

Lena was going to turn Coral into a fish again. I chuckled at the thought. I glanced at the clock and realized time was slipping away from me.

I pounded on Coral's door. I heard scurrying just beyond it.

"Coral, open up," I said, sternly. She threw back the door, clutching a towel around her body.

"Oh…hi, um…" she stuttered. I raised an eyebrow at her, and she pulled the door back farther.

"Well, come here. Let me get a good look at you," I said, standing in the center of the room. She took a few steps toward me. I circled her, looking her over, the same way my prep team had gauged me that first time. It's so humiliated to be eyed like that.

"So, you're the volunteer," I said.

"Umm, yeah. I've been training since…" she said.

"I don't care. You volunteered. That means you're either delusional or suicidal. Which is it?" I asked, standing in front of her and crossing my arms over my chest.

"I'm going to win," she said coolly. I nodded in acknowledgement.

"Delusional it is, then. Let me remind you of something, because I'm not sure it's ever been fully implanted in that skull of yours. Twenty-four kids go into that arena, one comes out. And that one, more times than not, comes from District Two. I don't know if you've noticed, but we don't live in Two."

"I've got a strategy," she said in a small voice. I waved to her slightly.

"Let's hear it," I said.

"No," she said, feigning defiance.

"Excuse me?" I asked, adding a menacing tone to my voice.

"No," she said a bit more forcefully. "You clearly don't want to help me, and I don't need your help." I pursed my lips.

"Fine. Have it your way. I needed a vacation anyway," I said heading for the door. I put my hand on the knob and turned back towards her. "You just better hope that they don't put you in a position where you need anything. Food, water, weapons, medical supplies…because if you want to work without a mentor, you won't get any of that." I slammed the door behind me for extra effect. The truth of the matter is that she probably had more reasons to hate me than not. I just wasn't sure how much of that situation she was privy to.

"_Arista! There's someone at the door for you!" my mother called. Really? I just got back from the Games, and this year, I had actually brought home a victor. Annie Cresta was being moved into her house in the Victor's Village today, actually. I could see the crowds of people gathered to help from my bedroom window. I really wanted them to all get out of my little sanctuary here so I could be alone. I sighed and walked downstairs._

"_Good afternoon, Ms. Waters, I hope we're not disturbing you," the woman on my stoop said. I made no move to invite her into my home, and my mother had discretely vanished. Seeing that she wasn't getting a response from me, she continued. "I'm Angel Fisher, and this is my husband, Nemo," she began. I hesitantly shook their hands. I really just wanted to be alone._

"_First of all, congratulations, on your success with Annie," Nemo said. I nodded slightly, waiting for them to get to what they really wanted._

"_Well, um, our little girl, Coral, is six-years-old. She's strong, and she's a fighter. We…"she trailed off._

"_We'd like for her to compete in the Games when she's old enough," Nemo finished. I think my jaw hit the floor._

"_You're serious," I said, raising an eyebrow._

"_Yes! You see, Coral winning the Games would bring honor to the District, and she would never have to worry about being poor the way we have," she continued._

"_It's also far more likely that she would be slaughtered in the arena," I said coldly._

"_We know," Nemo said. "And that's why we want to give her the very best we can. We were wondering if you would possibly consider training her. You know, teach her the skills that helped you survive, and that brought another victor home."_

_I didn't know what to say. These people were despicable. They were prepared to sacrifice their own flesh and blood for money. She would either become a casualty of the Games or their cash cow. And they wanted me to help them. I responded the only way I could think that might get something through those thick skulls of theirs. _

_I slammed the door in their faces._

When I got to the dining car later that morning, Chase, Finnick, Coral, and Hunter had already started on breakfast. The tributes plates were piled high, and they were eating like they had never seen food before. The truth of their situation was that these kids had probably not eaten this extravagantly in their entire lives. Hunter was a poor kid, and a teenage boy to boot. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had eaten the entire spread, which would easily feed a small army, and asked for more. Coral, though, judging from her physique alone, had eaten reasonably well in her life. I'm sure her parents found some way to feed her, possibly at the expense of her siblings, if she had any. The conversation halted as soon as I walked into the room.

"Arista! I wasn't sure if you would be joining us this morning," Chase said, rising to greet me as if we were old friends. I engaged in the perfunctory fake kiss on the cheek.

"I had some things to take care of last night," I said. Coral and Hunter exchanged a glance like they weren't sure what to make of my somewhat friendly demeanor.

"So, Chase, what's on our agenda today?" Coral asked as I settle into my chair between Finnick and Chase at the round table. I lazily spooned some fruit into a bowl and selected a few slices of toast. When I was a tribute, I gorged myself the way the kids did, but after I won, the prize money had been more than enough to feed my family. I noticed their mugs of hot chocolate had been drained. Hot chocolate was unheard of in the Districts, and proved to be popular for breakfast with the kids. Might as well expose them to the absolute finest before we kill them, I suppose.

"Well, Coral, we'll be arriving in the Capitol soon, and then you and Hunter will meet with your prep teams to get ready for the Opening Ceremonies tonight," he answered cordially.

"If you two are lucky, you'll get to wear more than Finnick and I ever did," I quipped. Finnick chuckled, probably thinking of his own tribute outfit.

"What did they put you guys in?" Hunter asked. I exchanged a glance with Finnick, who raised his eyebrows at me.

"Either of you from a fishing family?" I asked. Hunter and Coral both nodded. Hmmm…maybe she wasn't a rich as I had originally thought. "They dressed me up in a fishtail and barely there seashell bra, and Finnick was strategically wrapped in a delicate fishing net." Coral nearly choked.

"That's it?" she asked. I nodded. "Unfortunately, there's really nothing anyone in this room can do about that. The stylists have complete control over everything you two will wear between now and Launch."

"About that…" Coral began. I raised an eyebrow at her. "What's it really like in there?" I didn't like her tone. She talked as if she was going on vacation, like being in the arena was a dream come true. It wasn't. It was the most horrific nightmare I had ever experienced, and my brain was pretty good at coming up with terrifying images.

"What's it like to be in a confined space with twenty-three armed people who are gunning to kill you? Why don't you answer that one, Finnick?" I said, turning to him.

"It depends on your situation. I was lucky; I had a top notch mentor who made sure that I was well taken care of. All I had to do was use the gifts she gave me," he answered. Way to go, Finnick. I knew there was a reason I liked you.

"Who mentored you?" Coral asked.

"Mags," Finnick answered. "She mentored both of us, actually."

"What ever happened to Mags?" Coral asked.

"She got sick and tired of watching people volunteer to be slaughtered," I said coldly. With that, I stood up and returned to my quarters, where I fully intended to stay until we arrived in the Capitol.

_**Is anyone reading this? If you are, I'd like to hear from you. Please leave a review!**_


	7. Chapter 7

_Usual rules apply, Suzanne Collins is awesome, and she owns Hunger Games. Arista is mine, and her story is mine._

**Chapter 7**

By the time I returned to my room, the windows had darkened again. We were in the tunnels that linked the Capitol to District Two, which lay on the outer bands of what used to be called the Rockies. I steeled myself for what was to come.

As the train exited the tunnels and slowed, I could see the crowds gathered to watch the parade of tribute trains that started coming in last night and would continue to arrive until the afternoon. Finnick would probably be waving out the window in order to give the crowd a glimpse of the heartthrob they considered him to be. This would also be the tributes' first chance in person to win over sponsors. I didn't really care, though. I have plenty of regular sponsors, all who line up to support Four eagerly every year. I wasn't about to tell Coral about that, but we would most likely be completely bankrolled within the next twenty-four hours, provided my pre-arranged negotiations all went according to plan.

When we pulled into the station, Finnick and I stepped off the train first to the roars from the assembled crowd. We stopped to wave, and the crowd just went crazier. The Peacekeepers had created a path leading from the train to the car we would share to get to the Training Center. Chase would follow with the tributes.

"Arista, over here!" I heard a voice call.

"No, Arista, here!" another one a few feet away called.

"I love you, Finnick!" I heard one woman scream. As we walked the path, both of us paused to shake the hands of those lucky enough to be close to us. Mercifully, we made it to the car. I hated wearing that stupid fake smile. But, I did it because it was expected. I've become quite good at doing what's expected.

"Is it just me, or does that crowd get bigger every year?" I asked Finnick. He shrugged.

"It's the price we pay for being so damn good-looking," he quipped. I chuckled. Now the real work began. Coral and Hunter would be taken directly to the Remake Center, but Finnick and I would be dropped off at the Training Center. We pulled up to the familiar tower, stepped out of the car, and were greeted by another huge group of people. The tributes wouldn't arrive for a while, so these were mostly Hunger Games aficionados, eager to see previous victors as they arrived. We stepped on the familiar crystal elevator and punched the number four. Instantly, we were whisked to the quarters that had become so familiar to us both. Another dark haired Avox accompanied to me to my room, where everything would already be set up for me. What I really needed was my ID badge.

Each mentor is issued a badge that is displayed from a lanyard. One side has the mentor's name, district, and photo, and the other side contains the name, district, and photo of his or her tribute. The stylists and prep teams were issued similar identification, although, different badges gave the wearer access to different areas of the Games. Mine would contain a microchip that would give me access to the Mentors' Box as well as backstage clearance for all of the functions the tributes were required to attend. Most sponsors would also request to see your identification to ensure that they were signing over money to the right person.

That's when I saw it. My badge was there, hanging over the edge of the dresser. But what was anchoring it made my blood boil. It was a crystal vase with a single, white rose.

I snatched the badge and hurled the vase against the wall with a scream. My poor Avox jumped a mile, and that was when I remembered that I wasn't alone.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly to her. "I didn't mean to frighten you." She gave me an understanding look. Was it possible that she knew? No, she couldn't. No one did. I tried to help her clean up the broken shards, but she waved me away.

I snatched up the lanyard from where it had fallen on the floor and headed out. Regardless of Coral's behavior or attitude, I still needed to look out for her, and that was exactly what I intended to do. Something about that damn rose, though, plagued me. I knew it was from him. It was always from him.

I quickly headed over to the Winner's Circle, a bar a few blocks from the Training Center and a mere half a block from the Control Room. Its central location made it a popular gathering spot for mentors, and potential sponsors were often guided there to secure a deal. I paused to shake a few hands and speak with a few fans. It was all part of who I was in the Capitol. They thought they knew me, but the truth was that very few people knew the real me. I threw open the door and was instantly greeted by the bartender, as well as a few of the regulars.

The Winner's Circle was an upscale place, even by Capitol standards. There were several mahogany tables, and the perimeter was lined with plush booths. A matching mahogany bar lined a side wall, complete with stools. The stools were empty now, but as tributes started dying off, they would quickly fill with some of the mentors, looking for a way to drown out the viciousness of the Games.

"Your friends already have a table," Charlie, the bartender said, pointing me in the direction of one of the largest booths in the joint.

"Thanks, Charlie," I answered with a smile. I sauntered over to the table. Cashmere and Gem, both from District One, and Belladonna and Scar from District Two were already nursing drinks.

"Did you start the party without me?" I asked. Immediately Cashmere jumped up from her seat.

"Arista! It's been so long! How are you?" she said, throwing her arms around me. I hugged her back. One and Two had a huge pool of previous victors to use as mentors, so often times, years passed before I interacted with the same people. Cashmere and I had negotiated an alliance between One and Four the last two times we mentored together, and I actually enjoyed her company.

"I'm good," I answered. She slid back into the booth, making room for me to join the group. "So, what's everyone up to?" I asked as soon as I was settled.

"We were just talking about the best way to win this year," Scar answered, with a wink.

"Oh, really," I kidded. "And what have you come up with so far?"

"We want you," Scar answered, meaning they wanted Coral in their pack this year. This was how it always started. Even before the first day of training, alliances were being formed. Hell, by the time the Gamemakers actually saw the tributes, we would have our strategy pretty much solidified.

"You always want me," I quipped back.

"You do a great job with your tributes," Gem chimed in. And it was true. All of my tributes had been top six, and most had gone on to top four or two. Only Annie had ever secured a victory. I nodded, considering their proposal.

"Do you want me, or do you want Four?" I asked, because there was a difference. I hated operating without Finnick, but I could do it if I needed to. The Career alliance would be far more powerful than just a District Four alliance.

"No, we want both of you," Belladonna kicked in. "One, Two, and Four have had an great run as a team, and we don't really see any reason to change a winning strategy." That made sense. And, I was sure I could get Finnick to agree.

"Well, then, I think we have a deal. The final six will be the tributes from One, Two, and Four. After that, I assume usual rules apply?" I asked. Typically, we secured a final six alliance with the understanding that once there were only six tributes left, it would be a free for all. At least, that was what we told each other. There were always more deals to be made, securing a spot for your tribute in the final four and the final two. Beyond the final two, well, then you just had to hope that your tribute could actually fight.

"How did I know the five of you would start without me?" I looked over my shoulder to see Finnick standing behind me. I quickly slid over so he could join the group.

"Gem, Cashmere, Belladonna, Scar, and I were just discussing a final six pact," I informed him.

"Oh you were, were you?" he chided. "What makes you think that I would just go along with whatever strategy the five of you cooked up?"

"Because you always do," I answered without missing a beat. Finnick would be easy to convince. He stared at his drink for a minute.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. So, we're the mentors of the final six this year, I take it?" he asked.

"Only if you want to sign on as part of the official Career pack," I said. "Of course, if you'd rather play your own game, I'm sure we can pick off Hunter at the Cornucopia." I winked. I was kidding, and he knew it.

"Nah, the One-Two-Four alliance has worked for years. Why fix what isn't broken?" he said.

"A toast!" Cashmere called out, lifting her glass. The rest of us joined in. We continued to laugh and joke until the opening ceremonies began. As a rule, mentors stayed away from the ceremonies. We wanted to wait until our tributes had been announced to the Capitol so that we could start negotiating with potential sponsors. Charlie already had the large screens in the bar turned on, and we could see that the parade was about to start.

District One was up first. As usual, their costumes were impressive, laiden with jewels designed to sparkle in the evening light. Cashmere and Gem beamed as their tributes, Glimmer and Marvel, took in the crowd. Radiance doesn't even begin to describe the way they looked. They would make a good impression. Then again, One always did.

The tributes from Two were made to look like stone statues. Two's industry was masonry and stonework. I could never figure out exactly how the stylists managed such amazing special effects, but they had an informal competition amongst themselves to have the most dazzling tribute. Three followed, wrapped in wires and lights. I'm not sure what they were supposed to be, but Three's industry is technology, so I suppose it fit.

And then there was Four. I couldn't help it. I laughed when I saw the chariot. Hard. The District Four stylists had decided to do a variation on something that had been done before, but never went over well. The tributes themselves were complete naked, and instead of clothes, their entire bodies had been painted with fish scales.

"That's worse than the mermaid getup the put on me!" I exclaimed through my laughter. I dabbed an eye with a tissue. They were watering because I was laughing so hard.

"I didn't think it could get worse than a fishnet, but it did," Finnick commented. He was having a heard time keeping a straight face. I missed the next few districts between the jokes and laughing. And then there was Twelve. I stopped laughing immediately. They were…spectacular. The flickering of the artificial flames dominated the twilight. The cameras were focusing in on them far more than anyone else, and you could hear a chorus of "District Twelve!" being chanted by the crowd.

This was not good.

This was bad.

Shit.

"Does anyone else here get a bad feeling about that girl?" I asked the table.

"Don't worry about her," Belladonna assured me. "We'll make sure she gets taken out early, but I know what you're talking about. She has a warrior's look to her." Yes, that was the perfect way to describe her. The first wave of potential sponsors showed up at the bar.

"Ok folks, let's get this thing financed," I said.

Between the wining, dining, and schmoozing, I had only managed to secure a moderate capital reserve to make sure that Coral would be well supplied. I wanted to be able to afford just about everything in the catalog at the highest prices before we even got to the start of the Games. Most of the time, the sponsors themselves decided what they wanted to send into the arena, but I had a different approach. I got them to pledge money, and I made the selections. It was easier that way. I didn't want to be the one stuck with gallons of fresh water when what my tribute really needed was a specific anti-venom. I had seen it happen more than once. While I was busy talking up the Capitol's wealthy, a familiar face sidled into the bar and perched on one of the stools. I ached to talk to him, but I had to be discrete about it.

"Ms. Waters?" a waiter said, interrupting my latest negotiation.

"Yes?" I said.

"You have an urgent message," he said, handing me a slip of paper. I unfolded it quickly.

_8:00 tonight. Usual place. CS_

"He said you would know what it meant," the waiter said. And I did. But 8:00 didn't give me much time.

"Everything ok?" my latest potential sponsor asked.

"Fine," I said, slipping the note into my pocket. "So, what do you say? Feel like sponsoring a winner, because you're talking to the right person for that!" The form at the bar turned to look at me. His eyes were sad.

"I don't know…" my client said. I needed to talk to him. To hell with the Games.

"Would you excuse me for a minute?" I asked. He shrugged and disappeared into the crowd. I probably lost him. With any luck, an ally would pick him up, and we'd be back in business. I walked towards the bar and slipped onto an adjacent stool.

"Hey…" I said.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to say hello," he answered. In front of him was a shot glass and half a bottle of white liquor. I already knew where the missing half was.

"Your tributes looked stunning tonight. I'm surprised you aren't trying to scare up a few sponsors," I said.

"C'mon, Arista, you know how I work. Effie takes care of that. All I do is show up and sign the damn papers," he said. "I don't care about sponsors. All I want to do is get these wretched Games over with."

"Haymitch, stop," I said. "Those kids depend on you."

"I know. And I'm sick of sending them out there to die," he said. "but there's nothing I can do about it, so I just try to forget about it."

"Ok, this is me you're talking to. I understand. And you made me a promise," I said, looking at the bottle.

"So did you," he said, fingering the Tranquilite necklace around my neck. "Can we get out of here?" I glanced at the clock.

"I can't, but stop by tonight," I said. He stared back into his glass. "Hey," I said, trying to get his attention. "I've missed you."


	8. Chapter 8

_I started this fic before, but I didn't like the timeline. I kept coming up with important details that should have been shown during Training, so instead of starting from the beginning of the 74th Games, we're starting at the Reaping._

_Usual rules apply, Suzanne Collins is awesome, and she owns Hunger Games. Arista is mine, and her story is mine._

**Chapter 8**

I was furious. How _dare_ he? He knows that the Opening Ceremonies are a prime time for signing sponsors! And yet, he just couldn't resist pulling me away from what could have been a profitable night. Where in the hell did he get off? It's time to put a stop to this, once and for all. I steeled myself for a confrontation as I marched to the same room in the presidential mansion I had been in so many times before. As usual, he was waiting. His back was to me, and he was fixing himself a drink at the bar.

"How dare you!" I screamed at him. "Do you have any idea what you've cost me tonight? I was in the middle of…"

"Shut up," his voice was low, even, and calm. I clamped my mouth shut, swallowing my words. What was I thinking? I might be someone important in the Games, but here I was just another poor district girl he was blackmailing. He knew it, and I knew it.

I don't remember how it started exactly, only that it was the night of my Victory interview. He informed me that my father had been fishing outside of Panem's official boundaries for years, and with a simple phone call, he could have my father executed. And then he had offered me a choice…keep him happy or watch my father die. It wasn't a hard decision.

"Now," he said, finally turning to look at me. "are you going to behave tonight?" I nodded. "Good. Then take your clothes off." He sat down in one of the plush chairs in the room and watched as I stripped and folded my clothes into a neat pile. He couldn't stand messes.

"Beautiful," he said. "Now, come here." He patted his lap. I sauntered over to him, the way I knew he liked and arranged myself in his lap. Immediately, his hands were everywhere. No matter what happened, I was a prisoner in my own life. The Games were just the beginning of it.

I followed his every command and wish obediently. To do otherwise would put my family into harm's way, and he knew that was my one weakness. There were times I envied my friend Johanna Mason, a District Seven victor. She had rebuffed him, and he carried out his threats, executing everyone she had ever cared about. And yet, she was the freest of all of us. There was absolutely nothing to hold over her anymore. I wondered how she had pushed away the pain and the grief, and cursed myself for not having her courage or commitment.

And then there was my family. My strong brother, who had taken over the old fishing business. He would do anything to protect me, and I often wondered how he would react if he knew that I was naked on the President's bed with my legs spread so that he could abuse my body in any way that amused him. And my father, who devoted his life to my mother first and foremost. I always suspected that there was something far more to their history than just a romance, but it was a story neither one of them cared to share. All I knew was that his love and devotion to her was the driving force in his life, and Reef and I came into that picture because of that union. We were the living, breathing proof of their love, and we both knew that we were cherished by him.

And Mom. I can't imagine a day in this world without her in it. Every single time I thrashed in my sleep, there she was, gently waking me with nothing but love emanating from her chocolate brown eyes. If I fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion, I knew she was the one who covered me with a blanket and shooed everyone else away. I didn't get nearly enough sleep as it is, and she had made it part of her personal mission to let me sleep whenever and wherever I could. After it became too much to look in the eyes of the family members of tributes I had overseen, she took on the task of going to the village square for the necessities. She restructured her entire life to make mine as manageable as possible. Because of her, I could exist entirely in the Victor's Village, and for that, I was grateful. It provided distance between the Games and me. I honestly think if she could reach inside my brain and pluck out the horror that haunt me ever single minute of every day, she would do so without hesitation.

God, I missed her.

He finally grunted and finished. I waited to see if he wanted more. Sometimes, he could go for several rounds before he eventually tired of me. I sincerely hoped this wasn't one of those nights. As it was, he had already plunged into every orifice on my body he could fit in, and all I wanted was a fucking shower.

"Go on. Get out of here," he said. His back was to me again, and he was zipping up his pants. Grateful for at least this small reprieve, I gathered my clothes and slipped into the adjoining bathroom. I dressed quickly, even though I wanted a shower. I didn't want to use _his_ shower. The bathroom had a second door that exited into the hallway. I knew the way by heart. The Peacekeeper was on my heels, but maintained a respectful distance.

It was dark. I wasn't sure how long I had been at the mansion, but I knew that it would be pointless to go back to the bar. There wouldn't be anyone there worth talking to, and even if there was, I was in no mood to kiss the asses of sponsors for money. I just wanted to get back to the Training Center.

The Peacekeeper left when I entered the doors of the Training Center. Security was always tight here to prevent tributes from trying to flee. I presented my badge to the security guard at the door and entered the crystal elevator. I punched "four" on the keypad and leaned against the wall, sighing. God, I was sore. He was angry about something. Then angrier he was, the rougher he as with me, and I had a strong suspicion that there would be bruises on my inner thighs by morning. I quietly slipped through the common area of the District Four floor. No one was around, so I assumed they were all asleep. Or, in the tributes' cases, trying to sleep.

Gratefully, I opened the door to my own suite, consisting of a sleeping area and a sitting area, complete with a large, mahogany desk and a telephone. And there he was, on the sofa. He looked up at me with a tired, weatherworn expression, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Already?" he asked. He knew. He's known for years now.

"Already," I answered. He approached me and pulled me into an embrace. His head dipped down to capture my lips in a kiss, and I turned away.

"Don't. Not with him still on me," I said. He settled for kissing the top of my head.

"I'll always be here," he whispered to me.

"I know," I whispered back. I placed my hands on his chest gently for a minute before slipping out of his embrace and disappearing into the shower. As the warm, vanilla scented water poured over me, my mind drifted to the night I allowed him into my heart…

"_What are you doing here, Haymitch?" I asked. My back was to him as I gazed at the city from the roof of the training center. It was the Sixty-Fifth Hunger Games. Both tributes from District Twelve died on the first day, two weeks ago. My tribute, Laurel, had an airtight alliance with Districts One and Two to go to the Final Six. So, there we were, eight tributes in the arena, and the Finnick himself had her tangled in one of his ingenious nets. I watched in abject horror as he hefted the trident Mags had sent him only days before and plunged it directly into her heart. My screen had flickered almost instantly, reverting to her headshot and her lifesigns disappeared. I was dangerously close to tears over that one, my little blonde fourteen-year-old tribute who never really stood a chance. But what was really hitting me hard was that this was the first time I had seen my tribute killed by a member of the same district. It just didn't happen very often in Four. It's like there was some unspoken agreement that they would only kill each other if it came down to the Final Two._

_Almost immediately after my tribute was killed, I got another message from Snow. He fucked me senseless while I wanted to grieve for the little girl whose life I had just lost. I limped back to the Training Center that night, sore and banged up. And yet, I wouldn't cry. I wasn't sure if I was even capable any more._

"_I saw the recap. I am so sorry, Arista," he said. I steeled my jaw tighter._

"_It happens. It's part of the job," I said._

"_Arista, this is _me_ you're talking to. I've never brought home a victor. Every year, I watch those kids get slaughtered the same way you do," he said._

"_That's part of it," I told him._

"_And the other part of it is that, of all the tributes in that arena, she was killed by Finnick," he said. "No, I'm wrong. There's something else, something that you aren't tell me. What is it?'_

"_It's none of your business," I snapped. I hadn't meant to do that. He was just being a friend, but I just couldn't tell him. Part of me screamed to let at least one person know my secret, but I was so scared. He approached me and placed a hand gently on my shoulder._

"_Please," he whispered, begging. I closed my eyes and felt a tear trickle down my cheek. Ok, so maybe I was capable of crying. "I want to help you."_

"_You can't," I said. "No one can."_

"_Try me," he said. "You have to trust someone in your life. Trust me." I sighed. My resolve was crumbling. I was tired, scared, and in pain. There wasn't much left. It must have been a moment of weakness, but maybe it was fate._

"_Snow," I whispered. I heard him sigh. It seemed every Victor had a story to tell about Snow._

"_What does he do to you?" he asked me gently. I think he already knew the answer, and yet, he knew that I had to tell him myself._

"_Whenever I'm in the Capitol, he summons me," I said. He listened patiently while I searched for the words to explain it. "When he with me, he makes me do things to him." And then I was done. I knew if I spoke another word, I was going to completely fall apart, and Arista Waters _never _fell apart._

"_Sex things?" he asked. I nodded, and there went whatever semblance of composure I thought I had. I threw my arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder. He stroked my back, whispering things into my ear. I hadn't felt this safe since before my first Games._

_The silence between us was so palatable. Usually, I could read people well, but he was the first person I had ever met who could read me like a book. Not even my own mother knew me like he did. When the tears finally subsided, I wiped my face, ashamed of my lack of control and resumed my post looking over the city._

"_How did you know I'd be here?" I asked._

"_Because I know you. Hell, Arista, we've been friends since the minute you plopped down next to me in the Mentors' Box for the Sixtieth Games. When you see horror, you try to replace it in your memory with something beautiful. And this," he said, gesturing to the Capitol, "certainly is a beautiful sight." I finally turned to face him, and there was something about his eyes. No, it wasn't his eyes. It was the way he looked at me._

"_Yeah. It's also the setting for my nightmares," I said sarcastically._

"_Don't we all have those nightmares?" he asked._

"_Why do you look at me like that, Haymitch?" I asked, turning to face him again._

"_Like what?" he answered, confused._

"_You look at me…" I struggled for words. How could I describe this? And then I knew. "You look at me the same way by father looks at my mother," I explained. He laughed._

"_Arista, stop…" he said._

"_No, seriously. Why do you do that?" I asked._

"_I don't look at you in any 'special way,'" he said. No, he did. I was never wrong about these things._

"_I wanna try something," I said quickly. Before he could object, I crossed the roof, took both sides of his face in my hands and kissed him with as much fierceness as I could muster. I pulled back slightly, trying not to give anything away on my face._

"_Well?" I asked. His eyes were wider than I had ever seen them before, and he was as silent as an Avox. My heart pounded slightly, and I wondered if I had made a horrible mistake. I may have driven away the one person I felt I could completely be myself around._

"_Oh, God, Haymitch…I'm…" I started, but was cut off. He finally answered me by sweeping me into his arms and crashing his lips down on mine. I never knew that something as simple as touching lips could send the sort of feelings through my body that I was feeling. It was like an electrical current shooting through me, and for the first time since the Games, I felt alive in this man's arms. He prodded my lips, seeking more, and I tilted my head to a more comfortable angle, granting him access. My arms took on a mind of their own and wrapped securely around his neck. I pressed my body closer to his and felt him to the same. He knew me, but then again, from the day I met him five years ago, I felt like I met him a lifetime ago._

_I have no idea exactly how long we stood on that rooftop locked in an embrace. All I know was that I never wanted it to end. I wanted to take this moment and shove it inside a bottle so that I could open it and relive it whenever I wanted. And too soon, his lips pulled away from mine._

"_Arista…" he said._

"_I know," I answered. I knew we were in trouble. I was from Four, and he was from Twelve. There was no way we had a future. And yet, my heart wouldn't let me give up this man. And I knew that his previous girlfriend had been killed along with his family as punishment for an act of rebellion following his Games. He wouldn't risk needless lives like that again._

"_Shit," he said._

"_What do we do now?" I asked._

"_We can't do this again. I won't risk your safety," he said bluntly._

"_My safety's already at risk. And I'd rather die happy than live the way I have for the past six years," I confessed. He tipped my chin so my eyes stared directly into his._

"_Are you sure?" he asked, searching my eyes._

"_I've never been surer of anything in my life," I whispered to him._

"_Then we do this, but secretly. No one can ever know that we have feelings for each other. There are too many lives at stake," he said._

The warm air blew across my body, erasing every trace of the water. I pulled on a set of pajamas and padded out to where he was waiting for me. I joined him on the sofa, curling next to his side, accepting the cup of tea he offered me.

"Don't leave," I whispered to him as he wrapped his arms around me.


	9. Chapter 9

_Usual rules apply, Suzanne Collins is awesome, and she owns Hunger Games. Arista is mine, and her story is mine._

**Chapter 9**

"Do you want to talk about it?" Haymitch asked. He did this every time I came back from seeing Snow. Sometimes I yelled at him because I needed to take my rage out on someone. Sometimes I broke down and cried because of the weight of the secret and the misery it caused. Sometimes my body was battered and bruised, and he would patch me up with tender, loving hands. And sometimes, like tonight, I just wanted to pretend it wasn't happening at all. But one thing was constant, no matter what my reactions were – violent, sad, injured, or ignorant – he always managed to make me feel like I was special. And this man is the singular reason I never made any attempt to end it all myself.

"Not tonight," I said. "I just want to be with you." I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled myself as close to him as I could physically get. He draped an arm around me, and I relished this moment because, for a brief time, he was mine and I was his.

"So, how are you making out with your volunteer?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye and a lopsided smile. He knew how I felt about volunteers. Hell, he had probably heard my rant more than anyone else. I laughed instantly. After what had just happened, _that_ was what he decided to ask me?

"Oh, she thinks I'm a bitch," I told him light-heartedly.

"Well, you are," he said. I gave him a mock slap.

"Hey!" I chided.

"It's a good thing," he said.

"Oh, really," I replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. I like a girl who doesn't take crap from anyone, including me," he said. "And I like being one of the only people who ever gets to see the real Arista," he added with a seriousness to it that sent chills through me. Yep, he knew me all right. I was a completely different person around him. I dropped my masks that kept me protected, and I was just me. Until that night on the roof of the Training Center, I thought that girl had died in the arena. Turns out she was just in a bit of a coma.

"Don't you have your own volunteer to contend with?" I asked, wanting to change the subject. I never knew how to react when he flattered me like that, but I have to admit, I liked when he did it.

"Katniss?" he sighed. "She's not what you think."

"Really, and just what do I think she is?" I asked.

"You think she's like your volunteers. That she's trained for this, and that she's arrogant," he said. "She's not."

"Then why did she volunteer?" I asked.

"She's been functioning as the head of her family for a long time now, and when her sister was reaped, she just lost her head. She's prepared to die in that arena," he said, almost sadly.

"And you don't want her to," I added. He gave a sad laugh.

"I never want them to, but this one…I don't know. There's a special quality to her that I can't put my finger on," he said.

"Survival," I told him.

"Maybe, but it's more than that. I mean, you can't help but like her, even though she's just as surly and pig-headed as someone else I know," he said, kissing the top of my head.

"So she's like me," I told him.

"Who are we kidding? District Twelve hasn't won in twenty-four years. She's just as good as dead," he said, leaning his head back in defeat. I wanted to say something reassuring, but history had taught me that he was probably right. Just earlier today, I had been planning to kill off this very girl early in the Games.

"You know, I wonder if my brother might have done something stupid like that if he had been eligible the year I competed," I mused.

"If he had, I never would have found you," Haymitch said quietly.

"Yeah, and then we wouldn't be in this mess of a relationship we have," I added, trying desperately to lighten the mood.

"Mess or not, I'll take whatever time I have with you, Arista." He tilted my chin towards him to look into his eyes. He brought his lips to mine, and I savored our first kiss of these Games. I moaned involuntarily as I felt his love cover me like a blanket.

"How long has it been?" he asked as he broke away. A vague question, but I knew what he was talking about. He wanted to know the last time I had slept peacefully for an entire night.

"Months," I answered, honestly.

"You need to sleep," he told me.

"I will, once I remember how to," I answered honestly. He looked at the clock. It was getting very late.

"I should go," he whispered, kissing my earlobe. I shivered as the sensations shot through me.

"Stay," I whispered back. He lifted me up, causing a yelp to escape from my throat and deposited me onto the bed. I watched as he shed his clothes, leaving him in just his boxers. He crawled into bed next to me, and I found myself in his arms once again.

"I'll stay, but you have to sleep," he said, and that was just fine by me. I wasn't sure I was up to much more than that anyway. I rested my head on his chest and listened to the thudding of his heart, and before I knew it, I was in a completely different world…

XxXxX

I woke up with fleeting memories of Haymitch having dinner with my family and the two of us planning our lived together. I wanted to grab on to these slivers of memory before they faded completely. Reality hit me soon enough, and I knew in an instant is was all just a dream. A dream, perhaps, but a blessed change from the nightmares that woke me almost every night. I reached for Haymitch's solid body and found nothing but an empty bed. Like always, he slipped away sometime while I was asleep so that his presence wouldn't be missed on the twelfth floor in the morning.

I reached for my vial of Tranquilite, only to discover that the necklace was missing. In its place was a bottle of white liquor, our silent pact. I would give up the drug, and he would stop drinking, at least until our tributes were out of the running.

I sat up and stretched, feeling more rested than I had in a long time. It was going to be another long day. Coral and Hunter would have their first day of training where they would get their first look at the other tributes. I needed to go back to the bar and see if I could scare up a few more sponsors, but first, I had to decide how to present myself to Coral for the day. A sly smile slid across my face. I knew exactly what would get to Coral.

I waited until the last possible second to crawl out of my incredibly comfortable bed, relishing in the lingering scent Haymitch left on my pillows. That was another thing I wanted to bottle, his scent. When there were only a few minutes left before breakfast, I slid out of bed and twisted my hair into a messy ponytail. I walked into the common room, yawning loudly as I approached, still in my pajamas.

"Morning…" I said sleepily. Chase, Finnick, Hunter, and Coral were already present, as were both of their prep teams. Lena looked at me in horror at my appearance.

"Arista, darling! What on earth are you wearing?" she exclaimed. I honestly thought the poor woman was going to have a heart attack. I ignored her.

"Is there any coffee?" I asked, slightly annoyed.

"Fresh pot, right next to your spot," Finnick said, as he spooned scrambled eggs onto his plate.

"Thank you," I said, sliding onto my chair and pouring myself a cup of the bitter beverage.

"You _were_ planning to get dressed today, right?" he asked. I shrugged.

"I was told my services as a mentor weren't required this year. So, since I don't have anything to do, I figured I'd go back to sleep for a while. I think this arrangement will work out for both of us," I explained. Coral's eyes went wide. She must have thought I was kidding about not helping her. Good.

"So, um, you're really not going to do anything?" she asked timidly.

"You said you didn't want my help. And I have to admit, I can't wait to see this master strategy of yours. When you win, you can take over for me, and I'll watch the Games at home like I used to," I answered. Her jaw steeled, and she put her determined face on again. "By the way, how did you two like your costumes yesterday?" I tried to suppress a giggle, but I knew that wouldn't go over well with Lena in the room.

"Um, well…" Coral began.

"It was cold," Hunter said bluntly. I laughed. Yesterday had been warm, but I suppose in the cooler evening temperatures, having nothing on but body paint would have been a little on the chilly side.

"Nonsense! You two looked absolutely spectacular!" Lena exclaimed. I stifled another giggle. That woman would never get it.

"Good heavens, will you look at the time?" Chase said, jumping up. "We have to get you two downstairs immediately!" Chase shooed the tributes to the elevator, and slowly the others filed out leaving me alone with Finnick.

"Pajamas to breakfast in the Capitol," he said. "I never thought I'd see that." I laughed again.

"Think she bought it?" I asked.

"What, that you're going to sleep all day instead of doing something to try to help her? Probably. I would have," he said. "Um, you _are _going to do some negotiating today, right?"

"Don't be silly. You know I'm going to help her. I'm just not ready for her to know that yet," I said. "Give me ten minutes, and we can head out." I jumped up and raced into my room. True to my word, ten minutes later I emerged, showered and dressed to kill.

I spent all day at the bar talking up the various sponsors. I secured a few more deals, but I still wasn't comfortable. Then again, I was banking on Coral to pull a decent training score, which would send the sponsors running. I cursed myself for not being prepared for what I knew would await me. Nearly everyone I talked to was wearing some sort of decorative scarf around their left ankle. Every Victor had such a symbol. I have no idea how it started, but we all had our one move that we were famous for, and the symbols generally reflected that move. Still, I didn't want to be reminded…

_I awoke on the hard rock surface in total darkness. I had no idea how long I had been out for, nor what time of day it was. I discovered the cave system within the arena on Day 2 of the Games, and I had spent virtually every minute in here dodging the other tributes. I crept to the surface once a day to see who had perished, and who was still left. I had killed two tributes already, the girls from Five and Seven, and I knew I was going to have to kill at least one more eventually if I wanted to go home. The two girls I had killed just happened to stumble across my path and aim weapons at me. My game had been almost completely one of survival and evasion. _

_I bundled up the meager supplies I had received from Mags over the course of the Games. She had sent me food, two bottles of water, and a boning knife. I was miserable with weapons, and I only pulled a four in my training score. It was a miracle I was still alive. And then a smell permeated my nostrils that I immediately recognized. Salt water. I started walking and before long, my boots were covered in it. The water level around me was rising rapidly. I was going to have to make it to the mouth of the cave fast if I didn't want to drown down here._

_I knew from my mental list that only three tributes remained. Besides me, the two from Eight were still around. I have no idea who killed who, and quite frankly, I didn't really care. All I had to do was take care of the two from Eight, and I was home free. _

_As I continued navigating my way in the darkness, the water reached a point where it was difficult to walk. I noticed it had an unnatural chill to it, too. I needed to get into the warm sun before the coldness overcame me. Based on the distance I had to cover, I knew I could swim it quicker than I could walk, but I couldn't do it with the pack. I abandoned my precious survival materials and hoped that if this went on much longer that Mags would be able to send more._

_I lowered my body into the chilled water, gasping at the change in temperature. It was like tiny needles puncturing every inch of skin on my body. I needed to move fast. I swam as quickly as I could, hoping I could reach the mouth of the cave before it turned into a watery grave. I was too slow. I was about 500 feet from the mouth when the water crept higher, smothering the last gap of air in the cave. I took one last good breath and plunged forward, determined to make it. Somehow, probably through sheer stubbornness, I found my head popping out into the open air._

"_Cotton!" I heard a boy yell from the bank of the flooded area. The girl from Eight. And then the cannon went off. I looked at him squarely as we both realized that we were the last two in the arena. One of us was going home. But just one. I weighed out my options carefully. He couldn't reach me from where he was without getting into the icy water, but I couldn't stay in here long. I was shivering violently and my fingers and toes had already lost sensation. _

_"Guess it's just you and me, Four," he teased. "Come on out and fight." He had a spear in his hand, and from what I had seen in training, he was lethal with it. He hefted it onto his shoulder. I ducked just as he threw it, prepared to feel the impact in my body. I was too close. He shouldn't have missed me, and yet he did. The water. I had been spear fishing enough to know that you had to aim slightly askew from where you thought the fish was. I guess they didn't realize that trick in Eight. He roared in frustration and lunged for me. He was big, probably twice my weight, and all muscle. I felt his arm wrap around my neck and he pulled me under. _

_He was going to drown me. _

_Never once had I been afraid of water, and now it was going to kill me. I struggled against him, trying to get to the surface. Wait, what had Reef told me about drowning? Instinct will pull you up, but sometimes you have to go down. I tucked my chin into my shoulder and propelled myself down. He hadn't been expecting that, and I slipped through his grasp quickly. He came after me. He could swim, but not well. He grabbed for me in the water, and my hands skimmed the watery floor. _

_And then I found it._

_A vine attached to the ground. I prayed my fingers were still nimble enough to do this. Otherwise, I was dead. I fumbled with the vine, maneuvering it into a slip knot. Then I deftly circled around him and slipped the loop over his left foot. _

_He took off after me, but the vine held him in place. I was cold. So cold. My head emerged from the water and I took several deep breaths. All of those years of hunting for oysters on the sea floor had built up my lung capacity so that I could hold my breath longer than most people. I dragged myself to the beach. The shivering had stopped. I hoped it was just from adrenaline, but I had a strong suspicion that it was the next stage of hypothermia. _

_Somehow, I reached the shore. I dragged myself out of the icy depths and looked back. I could see a dark head poking through the surface. Damn. The vine was too long. I watched for a while longer, but no matter how the head moved, I never saw a face break the surface. I collapsed, too tired to move. I knew how this worked. I had seen enough fishing accidents in cold water. All I had to do was go to sleep. Everyone in Four told me that this was a peaceful way to go. You'd just never wake up._

_I conjured my mother's face in my mind's eye and tried to imagine her holding me. She had wanted that to be my last memory in this world. _

"_Momma…" I think I murmured. Or at least I tried to. I closed my eyes and waited for oblivion._

_And then I heard the cannon go off._

"_Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the Fifty-Ninth Hunger Games, Arista Waters!"_

_I had never been so happy to hear the voice of Claudius Templesmith in my entire life._

I know they displayed the scarves to show their support for me and my district, but dammit, all I could think of was that poor boy I killed with that vine. No, I need to shrug this off. It was a sign of respect. And sure enough, they were more than willing to sign contracts to benefit Coral.

When I knew I had about an hour left before the tributes would be returning from training, I raced back to the Training Center and changed back into the sloppy clothes I had on before they left.

I heard the sounds of the tributes coming back, but I was going to wait here. I wanted Coral to think that I had slept the day away. They had two hours before dinner, and I was surprised there was a knock at my door an hour before dinner was served. I shuffled towards it and pulled it open.

Standing in front of me, with tears streaming down her face was Coral Fisher.

"I don't want to die," she said softly. Her face looked girlish and innocent, and her tears were certainly real. I'm not sure what she saw in the training session, but whatever it was scared the hell out of her. I held open my arms, and she ran into them, surprisingly enough. I held her as she sobbed against my chest.

"Please help me," she wailed, clutching my shirt like a life line. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"Now I can help you," I said with sweetness in my voice, and for the first time since I met Coral Fisher, it wasn't an act.


	10. Chapter 10

_Usual rules apply, Suzanne Collins is awesome, and she owns Hunger Games. Arista is mine, and her story is mine._

**Chapter 10**

I held Coral as her body wracked with sobs. I didn't even try to convince her to stop, because I understood exactly what she was feeling. The reality of her situation had finally been driven home, and now she realized that there was a strong possibility that she would lose. And yet, this is what I had been waiting for. I waited for the fear, because fear would tell her her limits. When I felt her body calm, I led her over to the sofa.

"Have a seat, Coral," I said gently. She perched herself on one end and I sat on the other end with my elbows on my knees.

"What happened down there today?" I asked.

"You know Cato? The boy from Two?" she said. I nodded. Good, she picked up on him as a threat. Maybe her instincts were sharper than I thought they were. "He's an animal," she said.

"How so?" I asked.

"He's…eager to go in there," she said. I raised an eyebrow to her.

"I mean, I am too," she added quickly. "And I know I'm expected to kill. That's been drilled into me for as long as I can remember. I can do it, that's not a problem."

"Ok, so you're not afraid to take a life," I summarized. "What bugs you about Cato?"

"He aims to maim, not kill," she said. I knew exactly what she was talking about. While the goal of the Hunger Games is to kill your fellow competitors, the fact remains that the Games are for the Capitol's entertainment, and they always like a good show. Long, bloody, drawn out battles always play out better than quick, painless deaths.

"Ok, Coral, let me tell you something. Forget about the cameras. Forget about the crowds watching. You need to listen to what's in here," I said, pointing to her heart. "Personally, I despise torturous deaths. I can tell you from experience that it's absolute hell to sit in the Mentor's Box and watch those battles play out, for everyone involved. And at the end of the day, you have to be able to live with each and every one of your kills."

"You won the Fifty-Ninth Games, right?" she asked.

"I did," I answered.

"So you must have killed at least one person," she deduced.

"Officially, I was given credit for three," I told her.

"How do you live with it?" she asked. I sighed. I had snapped the neck of one girl and buried my boning knife into the chest of the other. And then there was the boy from Eight.

"Honestly, Coral, the one that haunts me the most is the final kill. At that point, I was just trying to survive. Up until then, I had made a concerted effort to keep my kills painless and to a minimum," I explained.

"Can I ask about that final kill?" she said. I closed my eyes. I hated going back to that place. There were days when I could still hear his voice and feel the icy water on my skin. And yet, she was a tribute. She had a right to know.

"I tied a boy around the ankle in a pool of water," I said, trying to keep the emotional distance. "I waited on the bank while he slowly drowned." She would know about drownings. It happened more often than anyone liked to admit in Four. "It took him several minutes to die, and the whole time I was waiting for that cannon to go off, I was only thinking about staying alive, not about showing him any mercy."

"But, if you hadn't done that, you'd be dead," Coral said.

"True. But, it's something I have to live with every single day," I said. I needed to get off this topic. I didn't want to talk about my own Games or my own pain anymore. "Ok, here's what I need to know. Who did you eat lunch with today?" I asked.

"I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. Hunter managed to get pretty friendly with One and Two, so I sort of tagged along," she said. I couldn't suppress my grin.

"Good. Here's the plan. You're part of the Career pack. I've already been in negotiations with the mentors from One and Two, and your team will consist of Glimmer, Marvel, Cato, Clove, Hunter, and you," I said. Her eyes were wide and her jaw was open slightly.

"How…? But, I thought you hated me," she began. I smiled.

"Did you really think I'd leave you to fend for yourself?" I asked.

"You've already…?" she stuttered.

"Yes. Now, listen. The plan is to seize the Cornucopia, first and foremost. Now, this is the key piece to the rest of your Games, so if you fail here, you're done, got it?" I asked. I was all business again, and I liked it. She nodded slowly. I continued. "The Cornucopia will most likely contain everything you need for basic survival in whatever element they throw you in to. If there's food or water, you'll probably be safe, but I don't want you to eat _anything_ you haven't seen someone else sample first, understand?" I said.

"Why?" she asked.

"Do you know who Haymitch Abernathy is?" I asked.

"Yeah, he's that drunk mentor from Twelve, right?" she asked. I felt a slight pain in my heart hearing him described like that, but I had to remind myself once again that this is how most of Panem perceived him.

"Yes. He won the second Quarter Quell, and in his Games, everything in the arena except the food at the Cornucopia and rainwater was poisoned. The Gamemakers will do everything to keep you well-fed, safe, and protected right up until the launch. Once you're in that arena, they don't give a crap about you. In fact, they'll be actively trying to kill you," I said. "So, just in case anything in there is poison, I don't want you to be the guinea pig."

"Got it. Ok, so how do we secure the Cornucopia?" she asked.

"You'll work within your team of six. I need you to find out who the fastest four are. Those four will have one objective, and that's to get a weapon they can handle. Those four will defend while the slower two grab the loot. Once you have the supplies, you'll have to secure them so that you will have access to them for the remainder of the Games," I said.

"Ok, how do we do that?" she asked.

"That…I haven't worked out yet, but I will. Coral, I want you to listen to me. I can build you a winning strategy, but you'll have to do exactly what I tell you to do, ok?" I said. She nodded again. "My big plan is to build up a series of alliances for you all the way to the Final Two. Then, I'm afraid, it's up to you. But, I like the odds of one in two far better than one in twenty-four," I said.

"Do you really think we can win this?" she asked. We. She had said we. _We_ would win the Games, not her.

"I do, but only with the proper strategy. Now, you leave that piece up to me. What I want you to focus on is learning as much as you can in training. That goes for skills as well as your competitors. Learn their strengths and weaknesses, and try to pick up a few new skills while you're there. The other thing I want you to do is eat well to build up your strength for the days to come. And last, get some sleep. You won't get much in the arena, so take advantage of the safety of the Training Center while you have it," I said.

"So, should I keep having lunch with the others?" she asked.

"Absolutely. Make a big show of it, too. The more tributes that are afraid of you at Launch, the better. If they get too scared, they won't even try to put up a fight at the Cornucopia, which makes your odds a little better," I said. "We'll meet here every night to go over the plans. I won't send you in unprepared." I glanced at the clock and realized Coral was still in her tight black jumpsuit with the number four embroidered on the sleeves. "Dinner's going to be served soon. Why don't you go get changed?" She nodded and stood up. She made it halfway across the room before she turned back to me.

"Arista?" she asked.

"What is it?" I said.

"The sleep thing…how do you force yourself to sleep?" she asked. I sighed.

"Just do the best you can. And if you figure out how to do that, let me know the secret, hm?" I answered. She started to leave, and at the last second, turned and barreled towards me, throwing her arms around me.

"Thank you," she whispered. I hesitated, then returned the hug.

"Go on. Go get ready for dinner," I said. I peeled off the pajamas I was in and was in the process of changing into something more sensible when my phone rang.

"Arista Waters," I said into the mouthpiece.

"Hi, Arista, this is Qwerty Jobs from District 3. I think we should talk. Can we meet at the Winner's Circle tonight?" the voice said. I was glad I was on the phone so Qwerty couldn't see my face. She's been mentoring for several years now, and never once has she reached out to me for anything. Actually, if I stopped to think about it, she had some sort of deep-seeded hatred for District Four that I never understood. I used a hands off policy with Qwerty. I didn't ask her for anything, and I stayed out of her way as much as possible.

"Tonight's no good. How about tomorrow after training starts?" I suggested. I heard her breathe a faint sigh of relief.

"Tomorrow's fine. See you then," she said, and then she hung up. _Odd,_ I thought. I was nearly dressed when my phone rang again. This must be the call I was expecting.

"Did he ask for you tonight?" Haymitch. I let the smile play out on my face.

"No, and if he was going to, he would have by now. We're in the clear," I answered.

"Good, because I want to spend every possible moment I can with you," he said.

"Everyone down here disappears by 9:00," I said.

"I can be there by 9:03," he said. I laughed.

"See you then," I answered. I replaced the phone on the cradle, and I felt like I was on top of the world. Coral hit a major breakthrough today, Snow was staying away from me for today, and Haymitch would be here in just over two hours. I was curious about Qwerty, but whatever she wanted I could deal with. I was done with the intimidating clothes, so for tonight, I selected a pale pink top and pair of wide leg white linen trousers with a drawstring closure. I left my hair loose, letting the curls frame my face.

"Good evening," I said merrily, striding into the common room. I gave Coral a gentle squeeze on her shoulder before taking my usual place next to Finnick. The prep teams didn't eat with us during the training days, so the setting was a bit more intimate.

"Hey, Arista," she said. Finnick looked at Coral and then back at me.

"Does this mean I get to stop mentoring both of our tributes this year?" he asked.

"Oh, so you were giving her pointers behind my back," I said in a mock accusatory tone.

"It wasn't his fault," Coral said quickly. "I asked him to."

"All I did was tell her to stick with Hunter in training. And that she needed to talk to her own mentor," he said.

"It's fine," I said, shooting Coral a wink across the table. I think she was genuinely surprised at my apparent change in attitude.

"Well, it's nice to see some harmony among the District Four team for once," Chase commented, shooting me a look. I replied with one of my own of innocence. I did what I had to do. To hell with him. I wanted a win, and dammit, I was going to get it. I only took a few spoonfuls of my favorite onion soup with melted cheese over the top, but I watched Coral eat with gusto. If I had my way, she'd have a few extra pounds on her by the time she went into the arena.

"Have you two given any thought as to what you want to say in your interview?" I asked casually.

"Honestly, I've been focusing on getting through this one day at a time," Hunter commented. I nodded, understanding where he was coming from.

"Fair enough. Hey, listen to me, both of you," I said, drawing their attention. "Don't worry about what's to come. Everyone at this table will work to the best of his or her ability to make you look phenomenal. That goes for your prep teams, too." The soup course was taken away, and the main course was brought in.

"What is this?" Coral asked, inspecting the food with her knife and fork. I looked at my own plate as soon as it was set in front of me. Filet mignon, baked potatoes, and fresh asparagus in a rich, creamy sauce. My eyes lit up.

"Who ordered this?" I asked. Chase looked at me sheepishly.

"I did. I thought if we fed you something you liked, you might be a bit more…personable?" he said, blushing slightly.

"I'm always personable," I quipped, which was followed by laughter by everyone at the table. I turned my attention to Coral. "This, is by far, the best meal I have ever eaten in my life. The meat is beef, and it's the best cut on the cow." In all likelihood, she had never seen any kind of steak. Livestock was raised in District Ten, a considerable distance from Four. Most of their product went to the Capitol, so hardly ever had any available in Four. Our families grew up eating every sort of critter that grew in the sea. Chicken was a luxury, but beef was something wild and exotic. I watched as Coral picked up her knife, cut off a small piece and put it in her mouth. Instantly, her eyes widened.

"Oh my God…" she said with her mouth full. I nodded to her.

"Good, isn't it?" I asked. She nodded back, her mouth too full for polite conversation.

The rest of the meal continued without incident. Chase was utterly baffled by my new behavior, but then again, he was always clueless. This wasn't the first time I had started off the Games as a bitch, and it probably wouldn't be the last. You'd think he would have caught on by now, but I'm not sure Capitol citizens can see very far past the tip of their own noses. After dessert and a little more idle chit chat, the group retired to their respective rooms.

"Coral, hang on a second," I said. I whispered something to the Avox who disappeared .

"Yes?" she asked, and the Avox returned quickly with a paper cup containing a small, white pill and a glass of water.

"You asked me about sleep earlier," I said. I took the items from the Avox.

"This is a sleeping pill. It's designed to give you a solid eight hours of sleep, with no ill effects in the morning. Now, I know I told you earlier that you need to listen to me, this is a choice that you have to make yourself," I said. This really wasn't a test. If she wanted the help, I was willing to provide it, but I could understand why she might be hesitant to rely on chemically induced sleep. She looked at the pill.

"I don't know…" she said.

"You don't have to take it if you don't want to. It's just an option," I said.

"Have you taken one of these before?" she asked. I sat on the sofa and motioned for her to join me.

"I take them frequently at home," I said. "Usually after a few days of screaming in my sleep. It's the only my mother gets any rest herself." She still seemed hesitant. "Like I said, it's up to you. When was the last time you slept well?" Her shoulders dropped slightly.

"I don't know. Sometime before the reaping," she confessed.

"Try it. If it doesn't work for you, you'll never see it again, and tomorrow's just a training day. Nothing critical will happen, so if you're off, it won't show," I suggested.

"You're sure it won't hurt me?" she asked.

"In case you hadn't noticed, we're on the same team now," I said, smiling. She took the cup, swallowed the pill, and downed the water.

"Sleep well," I said, as she left for her room.


	11. Chapter 11

_Usual rules apply, Suzanne Collins is awesome, and she owns Hunger Games. Arista is mine, and her story is mine._

**Chapter 11**

True to his word, Haymitch was knocking on my door at 9:03 exactly. I opened it, and immediately threw myself into his arms to kiss him. I felt him push me back into the room far enough that he could shut the door behind us.

"God, I've wanted to do that all day," I said, coming up for air. He stroked my cheek and fingered one of my curls.

"I've missed you," he said. He took my hand and led me over to the sofa. He sat down, and I joined him resting my legs across his lap while he held me. We sat for a while in a comfortable silence.

"Can I ask you something?" he said. The hand on the back of the sofa was idly toying with my hair.

"You can ask me anything you want," I told him.

"Do you have anyone? Back in Four?" he asked. I looked at him quizzically.

"My family," I said. He chuckled.

"That's not what I meant. Is there someone you can see yourself spending the rest of your life with?" he asked.

"Besides you?" I asked. He nodded.

"No," I said quietly, looking down.

"Has there ever been anyone?" he asked.

"Not really. I wasn't really into dating before I was reaped. And the after the Games…" I trailed off. "Let's just say after the Games, I didn't want anything to do with anyone."

"Makes sense," he said. He looked lost in thought.

"Where is all this coming from?" I asked. "Why would you think I had anyone in Four?"

"It's just…well…" he stuttered.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I just wonder what it would be like to be with you," he said.

"You are with me," I said, not fully understanding where this conversation was going. He chuckled again.

"No, I mean, _be_ with you," he said.

"Oh," I said, my face falling. Now I got it. He wanted to do the same things to me that Snow did.

"You've never brought this up before," I said.

"I wasn't sure how you'd react. What he does to you, well, that's not how it's supposed to be," he said. I pulled myself off of his lap and brought my legs up to my chest.

"I don't want to do that," I said softly. "I don't know what it feels like for a guy, but it hurts for the girl."

"It doesn't have to, honey. And that's what pisses me off so much. He's taken something that's supposed to be beautiful and amazing and ruined it for you," he said.

"How does it not hurt? Seriously, Haymitch, I don't think my body was built to stretch that way," I said.

"It was. But a woman's body is like a musical instrument. You have to play it properly to get something beautiful from it, and what he's done is taken a fine instrument and destroyed it," he said. I considered his words. I wanted something more from him, but I wasn't sure what that was. I loved the way it felt when he kissed me, but something was missing.

"What if it hurts?" I asked quietly.

"Honey, I would never hurt you. You just tell me it hurts, and that's the end of it," he said. There was something in his voice, and this was Haymitch, after all. I trusted him so completely that there weren't words to describe it. "Let me show you how much I love you," he said softly, playing with my hair again.

"Ok," I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. I stood up and started lifting my top over my head. I didn't even get my hands above my chest before his were on mine, stilling them.

"Slow down," he said softly. "There's no rush." I looked at him thoroughly confused. "Is that what he makes you do?" I nodded.

"When I go to his chambers, the first thing he makes me do is take all of my clothes off," I told him.

"Come here," he said gently, leading me over to the bed.

"Haymitch, I don't know what I'm doing. I just know what he does," I said.

"I know, honey. Just lay down," he said. I swallowed hard. "Do you trust me?" he said, taking both of my hands in his. I nodded again. "Then don't be afraid." I laid down on the bed, preparing my body for an assault. He lowered himself next to me and pulled me into his arms for a deep, sensuous kiss. His hands skimmed my body over my clothes, and I immediately relaxed. I loved the way it felt when he touched me. He rolled me onto my back, never breaking the kiss.

"I love you," he murmured between kisses. His lips left mine, and for the briefest of seconds, I missed the contact. I felt him kiss along my jawline to just behind my ear. His hands twisted in my hair, and his tongue lashed out to tease at the tender spot.

"Ohh…" I moaned. I felt the pit of my stomach start to stir.

"It's ok," he whispered as he continued his ministrations. I whimpered.

"Don't hold back, honey. I love listening to you," he whispered. When my body relaxed again, one hand left my hair and travelled across my face, over my collarbone, and rested on my breast. I gasped and my eyes few open.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.

"No!" I said. I wanted to touch him. I let my arms reach around to caress his back. He stroked my breast through my clothes, and the feeling in the pit of my stomach grew even stronger. His mouth returned to mine, and his hands traveled lower. I felt his warm hands on my bare skin as he slipped underneath my shirt. My stomach rippled as his fingers moved over the bare flesh, exploring every dip of my well toned abs. He broke the kiss and looked into my eyes.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I assured him. He kissed the side of my jaw that had been neglected until now as his hand went higher on my sides resting on the band of my bra. He slowly worked his way to the front, palming my breasts through the second layer of cloth.

"Haymitch…" I whispered. "That feels so good." I balled his shirt in my hands.

"Can I see?" he asked, tugging gently at my shirt. I sat up partway, and he easily lifted the shirt over my head and threw it somewhere on the floor.

"God, Arista…" he said. I didn't know what to make of his face.

"What?" I asked.

"You're so beautiful," he said, returning his hands to my torso. I blushed.

"My turn," I said, undoing the buttons of his shirt. I pushed the shirt off of his shoulders, and I assume it joined my own discarded shirt. He gently pushed me back on the bed, and his lips found my collarbone. My skin was on fire. I never wanted him to stop touching me. His lips traveled lower, and my bra felt constricting. I actually _wanted_ him to touch my breasts. He kissed at them through the lace of my bra, zeroing in on my left nipple. I moaned again, and my back arched slightly of its own volition. I felt a strange sensation between my legs.

"Oh, God…" I moaned. I didn't know what it was, and I hoped it wouldn't turn him off. But at this point, I never wanted him to stop what he was doing. His hands maneuvered behind my back, and the next thing I knew, my bra was being pulled from my chest. His lips quickly found my nipple again. He suckled it like a hungry infant, sending exquisite jolts through my body.

"Ahh…" My voice climbed a few notes, and I was fairly sure I was going to die from the sheer exquisite feelings that were coursing through my body. He kissed his way over to my other breast, showing it the same attention he had shown the first one. I was panting. My fingers raked over his back, and my legs wrapped around his lower body. He kissed his way even lower and along the expanse of my stomach where my waistband rested. He toyed with the tie holding my pants on.

"Dammit, Haymitch, just take them off already," I said. He chuckled and gave the string a strong yank. I lifted my hips and let him slid the linen along with my panties down my smooth legs. He kissed every inch of my legs. What he was doing was so different from what Snow did. He was worshiping my body instead of using it. I was in heaven. I had never felt like this before, and I never wanted it to stop.

Once he had showered attention on my legs, he turned his attention to my core. He gently spread my legs wider and I felt his tongue lick the entire length of my folds.

"What the hell…" I asked, sitting up slightly. He looked up from between my legs.

"You don't like that?" he asked.

"I've never…" I started. He grinned.

"Did you like it?" he said.

"Yessss…." I moaned, laying back down. I felt him return to what he was doing. His tongue lapped at the moisture that had formed there. His hands cupped my ass, and he brought me closer to him. It just felt so damn good. I twisted at the sheets around me, balling them into my fists. I felt uncomfortable, like I wanted to jump out of my skin, and yet, at the same time, I probably would have killed him if he stopped his masterful manipulation of my flesh. I moaned and panted, unable to control myself. I was having such a hard time keeping myself still. And then his lips closed around the part of my body that drove me absolutely insane. I let out a scream as my entire body jerked.

"How was that?" he asked. I couldn't even form words anymore. I reached for the back of his head and pushed him against me. He took the message and went right back to that spot. The more he teased, he more I moaned and shook. And suddenly, every muscle in my body contracted and a wave of the most glorious pleasure I had ever experienced rushed through me. Vaguely, I heard the sound of my own voice echo off the walls as my back arched tighter than a bow. I must be having a seizure. The longer he manipulated me, the more it lasted. After an eternity it seemed, my body fell back on the bed, and I tried to catch my breath.

"Holy fuck," was all I could manage. Haymitch moved from his position so that he was once again face to face with me.

"How did that feel?" he asked, stroking my cheek.

"That was…beyond words," I said.

"Well, my dear, I do believe you've just had your first orgasm," he said. I grabbed his head and kissed him fiercely, tasting the slightly tangy flavor on his lips. His lower body shifted, and I felt a hard object pressed against me. Somehow, his pants had disappeared without my knowledge.

"Arista," he said gently. This is the part I was familiar with. This is the part that hurt.

"I don't want it to hurt," I said.

"It won't," he assured me. I loved him so much. If this is what he wanted from me, then dammit, I would give it to him.

"Ok," I said. I braced myself, waiting for the burning I was sure was going to come. He watched my face, shifting slightly. With one hand, he drew his hardness across my length. He found my entrance and pushed forward slightly.

"Mmm…" I half cried, my eyes screwed shut. I was braced for pain that didn't come.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"No…" I answered, shocked.

"Stay with me, honey, I'll take care of you," he said. He pushed in a little farther, and still no pain. In fact, it felt good. I wanted him there. He inched in farther and farther until I felt his pelvis against mine. His hands were in my hair again. I felt a tear slide down my cheek. He gently wiped it away.

"I'm sorry, Arista," he said.

"Why?" I asked.

"You're crying," he said. Another tear slid down my other cheek.

"I love you, Haymitch," I whispered.

"Should I stop?" he asked. Another tear. Where in the hell was this coming from?

"Everything you're doing to me feels amazing. Show me what you wanted to show me," I said. He slowly began thrusting in and out of my body. His eyes were locked on mine, and the only sounds in the room was our erratic breathing and moaning. It was so different from the way Snow did it. Snow felt like he was ripping me in half, driving into my body until it was too painful to even move. But this, this was something else. I was getting just as much satisfaction from this as Haymitch was. I loved the way his hardness felt hugged by my body, and the delicious sensations that coursed through me as he continued to move. He showered me with kisses and caresses making me feel safe and loved. It wasn't long before I had a second, smaller orgasm.

"Arista, I'm gonna…" he said, barely able to pull a sentence together himself.

"It's ok, Haymitch," I said. I felt him spurt inside me, and I wanted to save that feeling. A part of his body was now inside my body. We were linked on the most intimate level.

"Are you ok?" he asked, when he came down from his own orgasm.

"Haymitch Abernathy, I am so much better than ok. I don't ever want to let you go," I said. But I knew I would have to. Eventually.


	12. Chapter 12

_Usual rules apply, Suzanne Collins is awesome, and she owns Hunger Games. Arista is mine, and her story is mine._

**Chapter 12**

I tried not to think about what would happen when these Games finished. I had just crossed some sort of invisible boundary with Haymitch that I hadn't known existed before. I didn't want to go back to Four without him. Hell, I didn't want to wake up without him. And yet, I knew he'd be gone by morning, just like he always was.

Neither one of us bothered with clothes. I didn't want to spend a single second without feeling the warmth of his body next to mine. He wrapped me in his arms, and I listened to the steady thudding of his heart again, while his fingers played in my hair.

"Why did it take us nine years to do that?" I asked him softly. I heard him let out a breath.

"Honestly? I've wanted to do that since the night I kissed you on the roof, but when you told me what Snow was doing to you, well…" he answered.

"You thought I'd rip your tongue out and wear it as a belt?" I finished. He chuckled.

"Something like that," he answered.

"It was so different with you, though," I told him, wrapping my arms around him tighter.

"Because you love me," he said softly. I twisted my head so that I could see his face.

"Yeah, I think I do," I said, giving him a lopsided grin. He pulled me closer to kiss me, pulling my body flush with his side. Taking his face between my hands, I straddled his waist, kissing him with fever. I wanted to devour this man.

"Honey, you've got to stop, or this is going to get really uncomfortable," he said.

"What if I want more?" I asked, devilishly.

"I think I've created a monster," he said, and I lowered myself onto him again. We made love two more times that night before succumbing to exhaustion.

The sunlight was streaming through my windows when I woke the next morning. I reached for him again and found the bed empty, as expected. The usual ache that accompanied his absence was magnified, and if I gave in to my most primitive instincts, I would have curled into a ball and cried from the grief of losing him again. But I wouldn't cry. I couldn't. I had too much to do.

"Arista?" I heard from the other side of the door. Finnick. Shit.

"Uhhh…just a minute!" I called. I wrapped the sheet around me and stumbled to the door, pulling it open.

"Just wanted to see if…whoa," he said, taking in my attire. I looked down. I tried to get him back on target.

"Wanted to see what?" I asked.

"Who were you trying to secure an alliance with?" he said.

"_What!"_ I asked, not believing what I heard.

"Oh, come on, Arista. You have bags under your eyes, you're wrapped in a sheet, and you have sex hair. Oh, and you're glowing. I hope it was a good deal," he said.

"Shut up," I said, closing the door on him. He banged again.

"Arista! Hey, come on! I was just kidding!" he said. "Look, can I come in?" I hesitated. Next to Haymitch, he was the person I trusted the most. I pulled open the door.

"Fine, but don't you dare mock me," I said. I disappeared into the bathroom and hopped in the shower.

"I talked to the other mentors yesterday," Finnick told me through the bathroom door.

"And?" I yelled back.

"We're secure with One and Two, provided we can reach our usual bank balance," he said. I groaned. It was true that Four had a reputation for pulling the highest amount of cash for the Games, but I was struggling. I had secured a few considerable accounts yesterday, but I was off the day of the Opening Ceremonies. I remembered the phone call from Qwerty last night.

"Hey, Finnick! What do you know about Three?" I asked. I switched off the water and let the dryer do its quick work. I pulled on a white tank top and tan casual pants. A short sleeved pale blue button down draped open over my shoulders.

"Three?" he asked. "They've never been big competitors, unless you count the Sixty-First Games, but honestly, that was a fluke." Those were Qwerty's Games. I had mentored them, but that was before Finnick's time.

"Yeah, well, that was a case of Two trying to play to the cameras rather than just play the damn Game," I said. "Thor had multiple opportunities to kill Qwerty, and he just wanted to play with her. See my point about being cocky?"

"I never argued with you on that. And you're right, there comes a point when cockiness supercedes intelligence, and you do dumb things," he said. "Where's all of this stuff about Three coming from anyway?"

"Qwerty called me last night. She wants a meeting," I told him bluntly.

"With you and me, or just you?" he asked.

"Just me, why?" I asked.

"Well, it would have been weirder if she wanted to talk to me too. That girl absolutely hates me," he said.

"Yeah, I've noticed. Any idea why?" I asked. He shook his head.

"I have no idea. She's never said more than two words to me, and those two words were 'get lost.'" I laughed.

"That's because she doesn't know about your irresistible charm," I told him. Something was bugging me. What was I missing?

"Finnick," I began, trying to draw the memory to the surface. "Do you remember who the tributes were in your Games from Three?" I asked. His brow furrowed.

"Not really. To be honest, I didn't want to know anything about them because it's harder to kill someone you know," he said. I scurried over to the desk and yanked open one of the drawers. Inside, was a book of Hunger Games statistics over the years. Training scores, tribute names, famous moves, winning districts, etc. I flipped open the book to the Sixty-Fifth Games and ran my finger down the column until I reached District Three.

"I knew it!" I exclaimed.

"What?" Finnick asked, peering over my shoulder.

"The boy from Three. His name was Chrome Jobs," I said, waiting for him to make the connection.

"So?" he asked.

"Chrome Jobs, Qwerty Jobs…do you really believe that's a coincidence?" I asked. I scanned farther. "Finnick…"

"Don't tell me," he said.

"He was one of the tributes you killed with your trident," I said somberly. He sighed.

"Well, that explains why she hates me. Dammit, Arista, it's not like I had a choice!" he yelled.

"Ok, calm down. I'm not blaming you. We all did what we had to do in there, and to hold a grudge against any one of us is just plain childish. I'll see what she wants, but I'll be honest, I'm not really inclined to trust a word she says," I told him, as I cleared off the desk. I turned my attention back towards him. He was looking at the ground like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

"Finnick," I said, touching his shoulder lightly. "Look at me." He lifted his head so his blue eyes met my green ones. "This is her problem, not yours. I know you. You never would have hurt that boy if you hadn't been in the arena."

"I guess not," he muttered.

"Let me deal with Qwerty. You just focus on being your usual charming self," I said. "And work on getting Hunter some cash so we can count on One and Two." I checked the clock. "And if we don't get moving, we're going to miss breakfast."

"Before we go," he asked, tugging my elbow. He looked at my still rumpled bed. "Who is he?"

"Who is who, Finnick?" I asked.

"Never mind, let's just go," he said, leading the way to the common room. I was ravenous.

"Good morning, everyone," I said merrily. Finnick and I took our usual spots at the table. I heaped bacon, eggs, toast, and fruit onto my plate and ate like there was no tomorrow. Apparently, I had worked up quite an appetite last night. Chase looked at the plate, and then at me. All I had to do was raise an eyebrow to him, and it stopped whatever comment was lingering on his tongue.

"How did you sleep last night, Coral?" I asked politely.

"Better than I can remember," she answered. "I feel like I could run up a mountain this morning."

"Good. You'll need that energy in training today. How are you two getting along with the tributes from One and Two?" I asked.

"They know what they're doing," Hunter answered. "You should have seen Clove with the knives."

"Oh?" I asked, raising my eyebrow again.

"She never misses," Coral informed me.

"Well, neither do you," I reminded her.

"How did you know…" she began.

"Coral, let me answer that before you finish. Arista knows just about everything about everyone, whether she shows it or not," Finnick said. Thanks, Finnick. He was right, of course. It wasn't really anything special. I just paid attention to details, and I had a near photographic memory.

"Now, let's talk strategy. Coral and I have already had this conversation, but you need to know what's going on, too, Hunter. Finnick and I have managed to seal a deal with Districts One and Two, so you have an alliance of six as soon as the gong sounds," I said.

"Yeah, Finnick told us about that yesterday," Hunter said.

"Ok, well, I need you two to pay attention today. Find out who the fastest four are. We need to figure out your Day One strategy, which is going to involve securing whatever they leave you at the Cornucopia. If you can get that, you will have a distinct advantage over the remaining tributes," I said.

"What about after that?" Hunter asked.

"Haven't gotten that far yet. The most difficult days are always the first and last, though, and I want to make sure those are nailed down," I said. "If you can get past the opening bloodbath, you'll be home free. Finnick and I will do whatever we can to get you to the end."

"But still, only one of us can win, right?" Hunter said. Finnick and I looked at each other. Yes, only one would win.

"Right?" Hunter asked again.

"Yes, Hunter," Finnick finally answered.

"So which of us is it? Which one of us are you going to lead to the slaughter?" he asked.

"Hunter…" I began.

"Stop playing games! If you've already determined who the winner is, then what's the point of even trying? Why not just try to die quickly? You didn't even care about either of us until yesterday, Arista!" he yelled. He stood and raced down the hallway. Finnick stood, and I stopped him.

"Let me," I said softly. I followed him down the hall to his room where I knocked softly.

"Go away!" he yelled from behind the closed door.

"It's Arista," I said, quietly.

"I said, go away!" he yelled again. I needed him to understand how this really worked, and I wasn't leaving until I had said my peace. I slowly pushed open the door.

"Hunter, I want to talk to you," I said softly. He was lying face down on his bed, and crying softly into the pillow. What was it with tributes from my district crying this year? I sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Neither one of us are planning on sacrificing either of you," I said.

"Oh, come off it, Arista. One winner. One. And you two are working together. Coral's stronger than me, so you'll bring her home, right?" He was facing me by that point.

"Hunter, Finnick and I want a District Four victor. That's all. Beyond that, well, we have different agendas, and we know that," I said, softly.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean we can get you to a certain point, but there come a time when alliances have to break," I said. "It's all about numbers, and making sure that the numbers are on your side as well as Coral's."

"I don't get it," he said, shaking his head.

"You don't have to," I said. "All you need to know is that, at least in the beginning, you can trust One, Two, and Coral. When the number of tributes falls, you'll have some decisions to make, but that's not for me to decide. You need to work that out with Finnick. But, what you need to know is that Finnick is one hundred percent committed to seeing you win the Games."

"And you?" he asked.

"Me," I said. "Well…"

"You want me dead," he said bluntly.

"I don't _want_ anyone dead, Hunter. But my job is to bring _my_ tribute home. Just as _your_ mentor's job is to bring _you_ home," I tried to explain. He dried his eyes. At least I had managed to convince him that we hadn't already decided which tribute we were going to sacrifice for the sake of the other. I have no idea how Haymitch mentored both tributes in Twelve. I had a hard enough time managing just one.

"Now, are you ready to get to your training session?" I asked softly.

"Yeah," he said. I sent him into the bathroom to wash his face before returning to the common room.

"Everything ok?" Finnick asked.

"He's fine," I said. "Just a case of pre-Games jitters." I glanced at the clock. "As much as I'd like to stay and chat, I have a meeting to get to. Coral, make me proud down there today."

I left the Training Center and made my way over to the Winner's Circle. I spotted her almost immediately, face slightly pale, sitting alone in a booth near the back, nursing a drink.

"The usual, Ms. Waters?" Charlie asked from behind the bar. I nodded and went to join Qwerty. I was still trying to figure out how to play this meeting.

"Hello, Qwerty," I said, approaching the table.

"Arista…hi," she said. "Have a seat." I sat, angling my body slightly and crossing my legs. It wasn't long before a waiter brought me a tall glass of sweetened iced tea. She looked like hell. There were bags under eyes and a heaviness to them that said she hadn't slept well in a long time.

"What's this all about?" I asked.

"I need your help," she said. She was blunt. Good. That meant we didn't have to beat around the bush.

"Go on," I said.

"I need to get my tribute in the Career alliance," she said. Not going to happen. I wasn't prepared to take on anyone else at this point. It would be hard enough with six. Besides, she adamantly hated Four. How could I trust her?

"I don't know, Qwerty…" I began.

"Please, just hear me out. I just need Final Six. That's all," she said.

"Our alliance is pretty set, and it wouldn't be up to me alone. And Final Six would mean that someone gets bumped," I said.

"You haven't seen what this kid can do," she said. Now I was intrigued.

"It's just about your tribute," I said.

"Then what?" she asked.

"I know you hate Finnick, and I know why," I said. "If I take you into the alliance, then I have to trust you to some degree. And you like to send your tributes after Four pretty much at the sound of the gong."

"I don't know what you think you know…" Qwerty began.

"Chrome Jobs, Qwerty. Who was he?" I asked bluntly, leaning over the table.

"It doesn't matter," she said quickly.

"Oh, I think it does," I said.

"He was my brother, and he was killed in the Sixty-Fifth Games," she said. "Happy now?" Well, she didn't wiggle on the hook for too long. And, at least she was honest.

"You know that wasn't Finnick's fault," I said, defending my district partner. She shrugged it off. From her body language, I was obviously hitting some sort of nerve.

"Can we just drop it, please? It has nothing to do with these Games. Now, will you help me or not?" she asked. Backbone. I liked that. I decided to back off of her personal life a bit.

"Qwerty, I've seen your tribute. And it's common knowledge that Three rarely survives long at all. In fact, most people think your victory was something of a fluke," I said.

"Synch's a whiz with explosives," she said so softly I could barely hear her. Explosives. Land mines. The Cornucopia. And suddenly, I had an idea.

"Explosives?" I said.

"Yeah, when he was younger, he used to tinker around with this stuff. I lost count of how many of his siblings' teddy bears he blew to pieces," she said. "And he can make bombs out of the most ordinary things. But if you aren't interested…" She started to walk away.

"Hang on," I said, holding up a hand. "I didn't say I wasn't interested." I wanted this kid. No, I needed this kid. If his strategy was to lay land mines around the arena, I wanted him working with Coral instead of against her. And I knew how to persuade Gem, Cashmere, Belladonna, Scar, and Finnick to go along with it, but I still needed to know what was in it for Qwerty. "I just need to know that I can trust _you_, Qwerty."

"He's my sister's kid, ok? Is that enough motivation for you?" she spat. I brought a hand up to my chin, letting this new information rattle around in my head. Her personal interest could be manipulated into a way to keep her in line with the agreement. But I still couldn't match her terms.

"I can't give you Final Six," I said bluntly. "I can definitely get Final Eight. Best case, Final Seven, but that's the absolute best I can do." Please agree. Please. Otherwise, I need Plan B, and Plan B would be for one of the six to slaughter Synch at the Cornucopia, and I would join Finnick on Qwerty's shit list. That would be a waste of a valuable resource, but if he wasn't on our side, then he was a major threat.

"I think I can make that deal," Qwerty said. We shook on the agreement. Now, all I had to do was convince five other mentors to trust someone we had never trusted before.

_**If you're interested in Qwerty's story, check out the 61st Hunger Games by Lives-of-Dax! She's awesome!**_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Qwerty must have decided that she had had enough of schmoozing District Four for one day because as soon as the handshake was completed, she was up and out of the bar. I sipped at what was left of my iced tea letting my new strategy ferment in my head. Yes, this was going to work.

"Ms. Waters?" a voice asked. I looked up and a friendly looking gentleman was standing over my table.

"Yes?" I asked.

"I'm Roger Evans. I wondered if we might discuss a…financial contribution to District Four," he said.

"Please," I said, gesturing him to join me. He slid into the booth. "So, what did you have in mind?"

"Well, I've never actually sponsored anyone before. You see, I've only recently come into a great deal of money, and I thought I'd have a little fun at the Games this year," he explained.

"And you liked what you saw from Four," I said.

"I'm somewhat of an expert on the Games," he said, almost sheepishly.

"What a coincidence, so am I," I said, turning on my usual charm.

"Four usually gets pretty far, but a win seems to be just out of your grasp," he said bluntly.

"Well, I don't know about that. We've brought home our share of victors," I said.

"I believe you only have one to your name, correct?" he said. Damn, this guy was good. Most sponsors didn't know the statistics quite this well.

"Yes, but as you say, we get pretty far every year," I reminded him. "And this year should be no different." Something was off. I narrowed my eyes at him. "The surer bet is Two."

"But no one from Two had the guts to pull the move you did at the end of the Fifty-Ninth Games," he said. I checked under the table. He was wearing a stupid scarf around his ankle. Whatever, sponsors were sponsors, and if he wanted to throw money at me, then I wasn't about to stop him from doing that.

"Here's the deal. I can give you all the water you could possibly need to last the Games," he said. Water was usually a sought after commodity. The tributes could go for a while without food, but without water, they were pretty much dead.

"That's a no go," I said bluntly. He looked shocked. "Let me explain how this works. Water is a very precious commodity, and you're right, we'll probably need it at some time. The problem is that I don't like to commit to specific gifts. The arena could be full of potable water, or it may not have any. We won't know that until the Games start. But, I don't want to be the mentor sitting there with a lake full of water when what I really need is medication or matches or food." He contemplated my words.

"That's very astute," he said.

"I've been doing this a long time," I said.

"All right, how about this," he said. He extracted a notepad and pen from his pocket, scribbled on a slip of paper and slid it across to me. "This is what I'm prepared to spend on your tribute." I looked at the amount. Holy shit. Finnick was going to love me. The number there, combined with what I had already secured put me well over where I felt comfortable. We were going to be just fine this year.

"I…I think this will work just fine," I said. We completed the necessary transaction, I shook his hand, and he was on his way. This was good. Now I could focus on strategy, which is what I really wanted to do. Money and gifts wouldn't do any good if I couldn't keep Coral alive long enough to use them.

By the time the meetings finished, it was nearly lunch time. I wanted to have lunch with Finnick and tell him the good news, but I was approached by Charlie with another note.

_My chambers. Immediately. CS_

Dammit. Him again. At least he wasn't interrupting anything this time. And he wasn't costing me money, which I despised. I groaned and headed towards the Presidential Mansion. I was easily admitted, considering the guards there all knew my face by now. I wondered just how many of them knew more than just my face…

I entered his bedroom again, removed my clothes, and folded them neatly. This time he was facing me, drinking in my naked form as it came into view.

"Hurry up," he said gruffly. "I don't have much time today." _Then why in the hell did you send for me?_ I thought, but I knew better than to speak those thoughts out loud.

"Where do you want me?" I asked softly, keeping my eyes down. He hated direct eye contact.

"Get over here," he said. I approached him, and the minute I was within arms reach, he grabbed me and threw me face first against the wall. His body covered my back, and I was effectively pinned to the wall. I heard his zipper from behind me, and I quickly felt him stabbing at my center. I cried out in pain.

"Shut up and do your damn job," he hissed in my ear. I bit my lips to keep from crying out. His fingers twisted cruelly in my hair and bent my neck back.

"That's my good girl," he breathed in my ear. He thrust for a while longer until he finally grunted and stopped. He pulled out, and with his fingers still in my hair, threw me to the ground.

"Next time, don't make me wait so long," he said, punctuating his sentence with a sharp jab to my thigh with his boot. I shrieked. He rearranged himself, zipped his pants, and left me on the floor of his chambers. Shaking, like I always was after he touched me, I pulled on my clothes and headed back to the Training Center. I wanted Haymitch. I wanted him to hold me, and I wanted to cry.

Once I arrived at the Training Center, I picked up the phone. I knew he'd be in his apartment, doing whatever it was he did. He had such a hard time drumming up sponsors that he didn't really even try anymore. His gruff nature made him seem unpersonable, and he wasn't willing to kiss the asses of Capitol citizens in a last ditch effort to win the Games. There were times I wished I could be that honest.

"Haymitch Abernathy," he said gruffly once I dialed the twelfth floor. I had planned to say something. I had planned to keep my emotions in check until I could see him in person. Instead, I found myself sobbing hysterically into the mouthpiece.

"Arista?" he asked gently. I just continued to sob. I don't know why I couldn't actually form words.

"I'll be right there," he said, and I heard a click and the line went dead. I didn't even replace the mouthpiece on the cradle. I just dropped it, collapsed to the floor, and let the sobs overwhelm me. In minutes, Haymitch came into my room and was at my side, kneeling next to where I sat on the floor.

"Are you ok?" he asked, stroking my hair. I still couldn't speak. I simply reached around his waist and curled into his chest. He shifted us so that he was more comfortable, and cradled me on his lap. "Shhh…it's ok now. It's ok," he soothed.

"Just hold me," I whispered. I felt him squeeze me a little tighter, and I relished the feeling of being in his arms. Once the tears ran dry and my breathing returned to normal, he spoke again.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked.

"He kicked me," I answered honestly, and my leg was throbbing.

"Where?" Haymitch asked, releasing his death grip on me.

"My thigh," I answered. "It's fine, though."

"Let me take a look at it," he said, gently. I kicked off my pants and laid on my side on the sofa. The bruise was already purpling. Haymitch extracted a small container of cream from his pocket. I have no idea where or how he got it, and I didn't really want to know.

"How does that feel?" he asked, massaging the cream into my thigh. The cooling sensation numbed the pain.

"Better," I said. The bruise was fading back to a yellow color.

"It'll still be tender for a few days, but this should help," he said. "Honey…" I knew what he was going to say. He had to leave. It was risky for him to even be down here in the first place in the middle of the day.

"It's ok. Go," I said.

"I'll be back later tonight, if that's ok with you," he said.

"9:03," I said quietly.

"9:03," he repeated and slipped out as silently as he had come in. I wanted my Tranquilite. I spent a good five minutes tearing apart the room before I remembered that Haymitch had taken it the other night. Damn him.

There was a knock at my door. Fuck. I was a wreck, and I didn't really want to talk to anyone.

"Who is it," I barked.

"Finnick," he said. "We need to have a strategy meeting." I closed my eyes and sighed. Of course. I needed to meet with the other mentors to figure out exactly where we stood. There was only one day left of Training after today, and I wanted to make sure that we were ready before we sent our tributes into the arena.

"Give me five minutes," I said. I had to get my emotions under control. I couldn't go out there and face Career mentors in tears. That would only hurt Coral's position in the long run. I took several steady breaths as I made my way into the bathroom. I ran a comb through my hair, splashed some water on my face, and reapplied the small amount of make up to cover the redness and tear stains. I had wanted a shower, but that was going to have to wait. Returning to my normal state of poise, I left my room to find the group congregated in the common area of our apartment.

"Hey," I said, plastering on that damn smile again and taking a seat. I listened as they rehashed versions of strategies from years past. I don't know why they thought that strategies that had failed in the past might somehow work now.

"Guys, I have an idea," I said. All eyes turned towards me. "We're all agreed that we need to secure the Cornucopia first and foremost, right?"

"Yeah, and we've already figured that out," Cashmere said somewhat impatiently.

"I know we have, and that's fine, but we never figured out the best way to protect the loot," I said.

"Go on," Scar said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What do you guys know about Three?" I asked.

"Not much," Belladonna replied. "We usually pick off Three on Day One." Laughter followed.

"Maybe we should hold off on that this year," I said.

"Ok, Arista, I'll bite. What did you find out?" Gem asked.

"Well, the boy from Three seems to be a whiz with explosives. So, my thought is that we have this kid dig up the landmines around the launch pads, reactivate them, and bury them around the supplies in a more secure location," I said. Scar was scratching his chin.

"You really think he can do that?" Scar asked.

"Well, let's look at it this way. If he fails, he'll blow himself sky high, and we won't have to take the loss," I said.

"What if the loot gets destroyed?" Gem asked. I shrugged.

"Then one of our guys kills him. He's going to die anyway," I said.

"Finnick? You've been awfully quiet," Cashmere said. He seemed deep in thought. No doubt he was trying to figure out whether this could actually work or not.

"I like it. No one's ever tried to protect the supplied with the mines before. It just might work. But isn't Qwerty mentoring the boy from Three this year?" he asked.

"Don't worry about that. I'm pretty sure I can convince her to go along with this if we offer her, say, a Final Seven alliance?" I told them. This was also part of my tactics. I wasn't going to tell them that I had already secured a deal with Qwerty. They had their own side deals; I was sure of it. This was just how we worked. It was nothing personal; it was business.

"I'm good with that," Cashmere said.

"Me too," Gem said.

"Hold on," Scar said. "Final SEVEN? I'd feel better about Final Eight, just in case we need the extra spot."

"I can go for eight," I said. I looked around. All of the mentors were in agreement.

"Oh, and you all will be happy to know that Four is willing to contribute the necessary funds to see this thing through," I said smugly.

"Well, in that case, Four, welcome to the team," Scar said. We were solid. I felt much better about Coral's chances now that she was securely in the Career alliance.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

In spite of my lunch time activities with Snow, I felt pretty good when I sat down for dinner that night. For the first time since these Games started, I really believed that I could bring Coral home. While the popular opinion was that I wanted another victor to improve my own status, the truth was that I didn't want to be a part of another funeral. I suppose it was inevitable. Even if we did have a victor from Four, I would still be expected to be a part of the funeral of the other tribute, but at least I wouldn't feel personally responsible for that death.

"How did you guys do today?" I asked, dipping my spoon into the seafood chowder in front of me. It wasn't quite as good as my mother's, but it was a taste of home. Right now, I needed that. I had skipped lunch, and I guess somewhere along the way I got used to eating three solid meals a day because now I was ravenous.

"Good," Hunter answered between bites. "I managed to actually hit the targets today with some of the weapons." This had been an anticipated problem. Hunter hadn't actually trained for the Games, so he was starting from scratch. At least it was something.

"Did you get the information I asked you for earlier?" I asked.

"Yeah," Coral chimed in. "Glimmer, Marvel, Hunter, and Clove are the fastest runners." I frowned. I didn't want Hunter in a defensive position.

"But Hunter's not the best shot," Finnick said. I loved how he could read my mind sometimes.

"Ok, new question. Who are the four deadliest?" I asked.

"Clove and Cato are pretty brutal. So are Glimmer and Marvel. Those four can shoot pretty much anything that moves," Coral said. I pondered this new information. Those four would make good defenders, but I didn't like the idea of no one from Four being part of that pack. It left them too vulnerable.

"Arista?" Finnick asked.

"Hmm?" I answered, still mostly deep in thought.

"I can see the wheels turning inside your head," he said.

"Well, logically, it makes sense to send Coral and Hunter in for the supplies and let the others defend, but…" I said.

"You don't like the idea of Four having to be that trusting," Finnick finished.

"Oh, come now, surely you can count on an alliance!" Chase chimed in. I almost forgot he was there with all of our talk about strategy. I slowly turned my head and glared at him. He really knew how to tap dance on my last nerve.

"Have you ever actually _been_ in an arena?" I asked.

"Yes. As a matter of fact, I toured the arena for the Fifty-Ninth Games for my last vacation. Lovely place, really," he said. No. No, he didn't just say that. How could he have said that? That was the one place on this entire planet that you couldn't pay me enough to go back to, and he went there _voluntarily? _I wanted to throw up or hit him or…something.

"I don't think that's what she meant, Chase. She meant, have you ever been in an arena with live weapons and twenty-three armed teenagers, some bigger and stronger than you, all planning to kill you at some point?" Finnick asked. Chase looked wounded.

"I…no. I've only participated in the Hunger Games as a chaperone," he said, somewhat sheepishly.

"Then butt out," I snapped.

"Arista…" Finnick began.

"What? That comment is shows the kind of idiocy I hate from the Capitol. I thought he might actually have a heart, considering how many tributes he's known personally, but I guess I was wrong. Until you've been inside one of those arenas, fighting for your life, afraid to sleep because you may never wake up, with Gamemakers trying to kill you, you can't tell me who I can and can't trust!" I was livid. I wanted to dial back my emotions, but the fact that this man went to the very spot where I nearly died hit me hard. Everyone had stopped eating and now they were all staring at me. I took a few deep breaths, trying to reign in the surge of raw anger that was making me want to put my hands around Chase's scrawny little neck and squeeze the life out of him. Or better yet, wrap a vine around his ankle in a pool of icy water.

"You know what, I'm done," I said, throwing my spoon down. "I'll have the rest of my dinner in my room. Coral, if you want to join me, you're welcome to. As for you, Chase, go to hell," I said, storming out of the common room. I let my momentum carry me to my room, and as soon as I was inside it, I picked up the first breakable thing I could find and hurled it against the wall. That felt good. Ok, I could do this. I could compose myself. I took a few deep breaths and heard a soft rap on my door.

"Come on in, Coral," I said, more composed now that I was a few minutes ago.

"Are you upset with me?" she asked hesitantly before crossing the threshold.

"No, sweetheart. I wouldn't have invited you to join me if I was," I told her. She stepped into the room, carrying her bowl of chowder. I invited her to sit on the couch, and I joined her while she finished her soup.

"Can I ask why you were so upset?" she asked after I few minutes. I closed my eyes and tried to figure out how to explain this to her.

"What do you know about the old arenas?" I asked her.

"I know that they're turned into resorts or something, and they're quite popular with the Capitol citizens," she said.

"It's more than that, Coral. They go and live out their Hunger Games fantasies. They have re-enactments of famous kills. It really is just a big game to them," I explained to her. "You'll understand this after your first day in the arena. You are going to see and do things that you never want to remember again. It's not that he went to an arena on vacation. He went to _my_ arena."

"I can understand that," she said. "I know you think I'm a child, but really, I'm ready to face this." I smiled.

"Ok, here's the deal. I don't want you to show any fear or weakness around anyone else, including Finnick and Hunter. But, around me, I want total and complete honesty. I've been in your shoes, and I want you to feel free to ask me anything you want," I said.

"I do have one question," Coral said.

"Shoot," I replied.

"How do you live with it? Knowing that you killed three people? And that you've mentored thirteen tributes who came home in coffins?" she asked softly.

"Every survivor of the Games copes in a different way. Some are more successful than others," I began. "Some turn to drugs or alcohol, others throw themselves into some sort of work. When you win, you're supposed to pursue a talent, and that's supposed to give you something to do."

"What did you do?" she asked.

"I sang," I said.

"Really? I've never heard you," Coral said.

"I don't do it anymore. The Capitol had some issues with some of my lyrics, so my singing career is pretty much over," I told her.

"What kind of issues?" she asked.

"I sang about what it was like to be a tribute. It tarnished their image of the Games because I was honest about it, and they didn't want that sort of message out there," I explained. It was far more complicated than that, but she didn't need to know that. At least, she didn't need to know that yet. If she won, then I'd have to show her how being a victor really works. But for now, I just wanted to give her something to cling to.

"One more question," Coral said. I nodded.

"Can we…um," she stumbled.

"What, Coral?" I prodded.

"My family catches lobsters. Is there any way we can have lobster for dinner? As a reminder of home?" she asked. I smiled.

"Of course. How about mashed potatoes and roasted corn on the side?" I asked.

"Do they have carrots here?" she asked. I chuckled. She was still a poor girl from Four at heart, regardless of her surroundings. Corn was a luxury in Four, since it had to come from Nine, but we could grow our own carrots in gardens. She really wanted a taste of home.

"Anything else you want?" I asked.

"Maybe some apple cider?" she asked. Another local item. I dictated our order into the mouthpiece in my room, and the food was delivered with the same impeccable fashion it always was in the Capitol.

"Are you ready to talk strategy?" I asked, once the food was out and we both had full plates.

"Sure," she said. "Can you help me understand the Cornucopia thing?" I nodded.

"Well, remember when we said that we wanted our four fastest runners to get to the Cornucopia first?" I asked. She nodded. "I want at least you or Hunter to be part of that four. I don't want you both to have to rely on One and Two to keep you safe. For all you know, one of them may get a little bloodthirsty and take you two out while they have the chance." Coral nodded.

"Ok. How about this? There's no way Hunter's going to be able to compete. He's terrible with weapons. I can get myself into that foursome, and we can bump Glimmer to gathering," she suggested.

"Think you can convince her to do that?" I asked.

"Yeah. She and I have gotten pretty friendly at training. I think she trusts me," Coral said. That's my girl. Already working her angles.

"Good. Just make sure you don't trust her too much," I cautioned.

"Oh, I don't trust her farther than I can throw her," Coral answered. I grinned. Finnick was right. She was smarter than I thought she was.

"There's been another change to the plan. You actually have an alliance of seven instead of six," I told her.

"Who else?" she asked.

"Synch, the boy from Three. Now, he's a shrimp of a thing, so he'll be easy for you to get rid of when the time comes," I said. She groaned.

"But he's hopeless!" she said. "I've seen him in training. He doesn't have any survival skills and he can't handle a single weapon."

"This is one of those times where I know something you don't. I had a meeting with his mentor earlier today. The kid has a talent for explosives," I told her.

"But the only explosives in the arena to date are…" she began.

"The mines around the launch pads," I finished.

"Which are disabled after the sixty seconds," she told me.

"Well, according to Qwerty, he knows how to reactivate them. So, what you're going to do is take all of the supplies from the Cornucopia, move them to a more secure location, and then he's going to dig up the mines and rebury them around the supplies," I told her. I waited for the smile to play out across her face.

"Arista, that's absolutely brilliant," she said.

"You let him do the work, though," I warned her. "If he screws up, I don't want you blown sky high with him. Offer to watch his back while he works."

"Yeah, that'll work," she said. "Arista? What happens when the numbers fall? When do I stop trusting my allies?"

"Let me work that out," I said. "I want to see the training scores before we decide who the biggest threats are." I looked at her plate. She had eaten every last morsel of food on it. "How was dinner?"

"It was incredible," she said. "It's exactly what my mom would have made on Reaping Day if…"

"If you had kept your mouth shut and stayed home?" I finished.

"Yeah," was all she said. She looked at the clock. "It's getting late. I should probably try to get some sleep."

"Before you go," I said. I crossed the room to my nightstand and pulled something out. "I do this with every single one of my tributes before they go into the Games. This is a recording device. You push this button to start recording, and this one to stop it. And you can play it back with this. Hold onto this until we take you to the Launch room. In case you don't make it, you can record a message to anyone you want. You have my word that I won't listen to it unless you die, and then it will be to get the messages to those you've chosen."

"And if I win?" she asked.

"Then you get it back, and I'll never hear a word," I said. "But if there's anything left for you to say, this is your chance to do it." She took the device from me and studied it. And then she threw her arms around me again.

"Thank you," she said. I couldn't help but notice her voice cracking. Poor kid. I really didn't want to take her home in a box.

"Do you want another sleeping pill tonight?" I asked her.

"No, I think I'll be ok," she answered.

"If you change your mind, all you have to do is ask the Avox for one," I told her. She nodded.

"Good night, Arista," she said.

"Sweet dreams," I replied, and she headed off to bed. Was it really only yesterday that she and I couldn't stand each other? Somehow, that seemed like a lifetime ago. I was just about to head into my long anticipated shower when Finnick knocked on my door.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked. Chase. Did I? I shook my head, but I didn't say anything because this was one of those rare times when I was speechless.

"I don't know, Finnick," I answered honestly.

"He thought you would be flattered," Finnick said. I scoffed.

"Hardly," I told him.

"How long have you worked with Chase?" he asked.

"Fifteen years, if you count the year I was a tribute," I said.

"Fifteen years, and he still has no idea who you are," Finnick said.

"What?" I asked, not believing what he had just said. How was it possible that this man didn't know me?

"You put on such a front with everyone. You play up the Games, and you always seem to be having the time of your life when you're here. He thought you would be honored that he went to see where it all began for you," Finnick explained.

"Well, he's an idiot," I snapped.

"I won't dispute that. But the idiot _does_ have a good heart, if you'd bother to look," he said.

"Great, so now you're turning on me, too. How far does this go, Finnick, because I don't want to send Coral in with someone who'll take her out thirty seconds in," I snapped. I knew I was being unfair to him, but I couldn't understand why he was taking Chase's side. He was another victor, dammit.

"I'm not turning on you, Arista. I'm just…I just think you should cut the guy some slack," Finnick said. "Although, I probably would have thrown the bread bowl at him if he had said he went to my arena." I couldn't help but smile.

"I just can't go back there, you know?" I said, lowering myself onto the sofa. "When you were talking to him about his trip, did he happen to mention which re-enactments he went to?"

"Yeah," Finnick said, sitting next to me.

"And?" I prompted.

"He went to the cave," he answered in a low tone. I let this sink in. He had been on the very spot I was sure I was going to die, and yet, he couldn't understand that sort of sheer terror.

"The water was probably warmer when he was there," I said.

"Sure. Gamemakers only try to kill tributes, not paying citizens." I shouldn't have laughed, but I did. And then I remembered where I was.

"Do you ever think about your Games?" I asked.

"Every minute of every day," he answered. I think that was the most honest thing I had ever heard him say.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 14**

I saw the haunted look in Finnick's eyes. I only saw that look in the eyes of those who had first-hand experience in the Games. He wasn't the same man – boy, really – he was before his reaping, and I know I'm not the same girl.

"Anything you want to talk about?" I asked softly. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but stopped.

"I just want to get this over with and go home to Annie," he said. And I completely understood. Sometimes, you had to find a way to shove all of your emotions into a bottle and hide it in the darkest corners of your memory where you can't find it. Otherwise, the emotional pain becomes so real that it turns physical. If that happened, I'd be useless as a mentor. Hell, I'd be useless to pretty much everyone. As for his desire to be with Annie, well, if there was any way I could take Haymitch back to Four with me, I would. But this was our life. We didn't choose it, but this is where it led. I wondered where I would be if I hadn't been reaped. Probably married to a fisherman like my dad in Four, maybe with children, working on boats day in and out, and maintaining a humble home in Four. Instead, I had everything money could buy, fame beyond anything anyone could imagine, and my family would never want for anything again, but it came with at an almost crushing price that I was still paying.

"Good night, Arista," Finnick said suddenly.

"Good night," I said, and he was gone. I ordered a cup of tea and sat at my desk. I pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen and sipped my tea while I contemplated my task at hand. I needed to get my head out of my emotions and back into the game. Every year, I wrote up a kill list, and I requested that my tribute commit it to memory. It wasn't a hard and fast plan; there were always events that I couldn't anticipate, but based on training scores, physical prowess, information obtained from the their mentors, and my own intuition, I came up with a plan to kill of the other twenty-three in a manner that allowed me to fulfill my obligations as best as I could, and provide as much safety as possible to my tribute.

5, Girl

11, Boy

12, Girl

(In no particular order)

3, Girl

5, Boy

6, Girl

6, Boy

7, Girl

7, Boy

8, Girl

8, Boy

9, Girl

9, Boy

10, Girl

12, Boy

(Save for end, easy kills, not threats)

11, Girl

10, Boy

(Break Alliance 1)

Synch

(Break Alliance 2)

Cato

Marvel

(Break Alliance 3)

Clove

Glimmer

(Final Two – Win)

Hunter

I glanced over my list again. I knew that this would go through revisions after tomorrow when the training scores were released, and there was always the possibility that the interviews may change my opinion of a tribute, moving him or her higher or lower on the list. The plan was simple enough. After most of the field was eliminated, the first one to go would be Three. Qwerty may have had a personal attachment to Synch, but there could only be one winner, and as far as I was concerned, that was going to be Coral. I wanted to talk to Cashmere and Belladonna for the next phase of the plan. Coral alone couldn't take Cato and Marvel, but if she had help from Glimmer and Clove, she could. She was far more of a match for them than the boys. That would be the next phase – an all girl alliance plus Hunter. Hunter was so small, though, that he wouldn't be seen as a threat to the girls. Clove was deadlier than Glimmer, so I wanted her out first, just to increase Coral's odds. And once Glimmer was gone, that left just Hunter. Assuming everything went according to plan. The Cornucopia would be a free for all, though. Basically, if an opportunity presented itself, and the tribute wasn't in our alliance, I would tell Coral to take it. Plans are always meant to be changed.

I stood and gazed out the floor to ceiling window sipping the remains of my tea. The picturesque skyline greeted me. How could something so beautiful contain such horrors? When did killing teenagers become so commonplace for me that I could think about it as casually as I might contemplate what to eat for lunch? After all of the time that I've spent here, I would have thought it would look familiar at some point, but it still seemed as cold and foreign to me as it did my first night here as a teenager. I was so deep in thought that I barely noticed my phone ringing.

"Arista Waters," I said, answering it quickly.

"Hi honey, how are you?" Mom. It took her forever to figure out how to use the phone, considering we never had one until I won my Games, but she had been determined to learn how to do it for this purpose.

"Hi, Mommy," I said, smiling. I wanted to cry, too. I was so homesick at this point, knowing that I was three days away from sending Coral into the arena. I wished I could just take her home now, and we could treat this entire trip as a vacation, but that's just not how it works.

"Listen, I'm having a little pre-Games gathering here. Mags, Annie, Coral and Hunter's families…they're all here. We've been taking up a collection, and we want to send a gift to Coral," she said. I smiled. I knew that half of Four would have chipped in whatever they could spare, but Annie, Mags, and my mother would have absorbed the bulk of the cost for whatever they had chosen to send to the arena. Previous victors and their families are not allowed to directly sponsor a tribute; however, they may contribute to a District pool.

"What did you have in mind, Mom?" I asked. I liked working with cash, but we had plenty of cash. I could afford to let Four choose what to send, and I would make damn sure it got into the arena during a time when they were sure to see it in the broadcasts.

"Well, water is life, right?" she said. Yes, it was. We were the fishing district. Water represented everything. It was our source of food, our living, our entertainment, and it just plain made me feel alive. Maybe that's why I was restless – too much time away from the sea. But that sentiment had been drilled into us from the day we were born, and it was reflected in most of our customs.

"It is," I answered my mother.

"We've pulled enough for six liters of water on Day One," she said. The prices would increase as the Games went on, so it was crucial that their gift be deployed on Day One, or I would lose it. Mom had been studying my strategies; she knew I'd have an alliance of six. I smiled at the thought. I loved that she knew what I was thinking before I even did most of the time. I didn't have the heart to tell her we actually had seven in the alliance this year, so I let it go. I'd find a way to get that extra liter. The message that she didn't speak was clear. The water wasn't just for Coral; it was for Coral to share in order to gain a little bit of trust.

"That's fantastic, Mom," I said with excitement. God, just hearing her voice lifted my spirits.

"No matter what happens in there, I'm proud of you," she said. I smiled even wider, if that were possible. I really was lucky to have this woman for a mother. No matter how much I failed or how far I fell, her love was the one constant in the turbulent events of my life.

"Mommy, do me a favor, will you?" I asked.

"What do you need, honey?" she asked.

"If the worst happens…" I said, choking up slightly. I just couldn't hide my emotions in front of her.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. Hunter and Coral's families are staying here for the Games. They're in good hands," she said warmly. Every year I made the same request, and every year she told me the same thing. Some of the families of past tributes found it comforting to share the experience with my parents, who had sent their own daughter into the arena. Others resented our family because I came home, and their child didn't.

"Thanks, Mom," I said.

"Oh, Arista, one more thing…Coral's been under a great deal of pressure to win her entire life," she said. Her voice had taken a hushed tone, so I could only assume Coral's family was nearby. "Her family expects her to win, and they expect absolute perfection. No matter what mistake she's made in her life, she's been severely punished for it. Do you understand what I'm telling you?" I did, and I couldn't imagine a family like that. Reef and I could do no wrong in our parents' eyes. They always just wanted us to be happy.

"Is this why you told me not to be so hard on her at the Reaping?" I asked, suddenly feeling guilty.

"No, I figured it out from bits and pieces of conversations since you left. She doesn't know what it's like to be loved unconditionally," Mom said.

"Ok, thanks. Listen, I don't have much time so…" I trailed off.

"I know. I just wanted make sure we talked before things got too tough for you. I'll be waiting for you when you get home," she said.

"I love you, Mom," I said.

"I love you, too, Arista," she said. As I replaced the phone on the cradle, I swallowed the tears that were threatening to spring forward. There was no way in hell I was going to let Coral go into the arena with that kind of pressure. I had a new mission now. If she was going to die in there, then she was going to die knowing that at least one person in this world had loved her.

Finally, after a day of interruptions, I managed to sneak into my bathroom for that shower I had wanted since lunch. I gave the matter some thought before I programmed the water. I wanted something special tonight. Normally, I went with a vanilla scent, but tonight, I wanted something else. Before the Games, I might have gone with roses, but ever since Snow came into the picture, roses make me gag. In fact, my family was under strict orders not to have them anywhere in or near the house. They didn't know what, but I came home from the Sixtieth Games to find my mother had planted rose bushes in the front of the house. I'm not sure what came over me, but the next thing I knew, I was curled in a ball on the ground, hyperventilating and convinced I was going to die. Mom never asked any questions, but the roses were gone by the next morning and so far, they've never returned.

I wondered what kind of scent the girls in Twelve preferred. I finally settled on a light peach scent and stepped into the sanctuary of the shower. After I had scrubbed the toxic feeling of Snow from my body, I stepped into the dryer, and finished by pulling on a rather short pink silk nightgown with matching panties and a full length matching silk robe. There were mentors who traded sexual favors for sponsorship, but that was never my game. Nevertheless, the Capitol still made sure that we could be attractive in any setting. Haymitch was already waiting when I stepped back into my bedroom.

"You look…wow," he said, his eyes practically bulging out of his head.

"I take it you approve?" I asked coyly.

"You look amazing in anything," he said, crossing the room to wrap his arms around my waist.

"I don't feel amazing," I said, resting my head on his chest. He was considerably taller than me, so even at my full height, the top of my head came to his chin. His fingers skimmed my back through the soft fabric.

"You are, honey. You are," he said, planting a soft kiss on the top of my head.

"Haymitch," I said softly. "Make me forget. Just for tonight, make me forget."

"Forget what, Honey?" he asked.

"Everything. Snow, the Games, sponsors…I don't want to think about any of them," I said. I searched his eyes with mine, hoping he wouldn't make me actually say what I was thinking. He brought his hand to my cheek and gently traced my jawline with a finger light touch.

I melted in his arms as our bodies and souls gradually merged into one. And he managed the impossible: he made me forget. The only thoughts in my head were of him and how much I loved being with him. And it was there, in the comfort of his arms, that I once again found rest.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

I was awake. I hadn't opened my eyes yet, but I was very much aware of my surroundings and fully conscious. I knew that when I opened them, Haymitch would be gone, and I would have to go back to my professional, false self. I didn't want to do this. As the days crept on, I was starting to dread the inevitable. Whether my brain focused on sending Coral into the arena or getting on a train back to Four when Haymitch was headed to Twelve, it didn't really matter. I was dreading both.

I pulled the covers over my head and wrapped my body around the pillow Haymitch had used. I was acutely aware of his absence, but if I could keep my eyes closed, maybe I could fool myself into believing he was here for just a few more minutes. But the more I tried, the more I realized the heat from his body and the extra weight on the bed was gone. Well, I tried. Now, it was time to get up.

The next two days were going to be critical to Coral's failure or success. As I stood under the spray of the shower, I contemplated this thought. Whatever she did today would be the basis of her training score. She needed to get at least a seven on a scale of one to twelve, or she would be seen as weak. I knew how Cashmere, Gem, Belladonna, and particularly Scar dealt with low scorers. She would be in danger of getting picked off early because would be perceived as 'low value.' Then again, she couldn't score higher than a ten, or else she would be seen as a threat, and they would want her taken out as early as possible. I couldn't really blame the others for this line of thinking; my opinion was pretty much the same. You couldn't really trust anyone in a game where there was only one winner.

I pulled on a pair of white trousers and a pale green blouse for today. I wouldn't be spending much time at the Winner's Circle today, considering I had all of the sponsorship I needed. No, today would be set aside for strategy. I needed to have a meeting with the other mentors in my alliance, excluding Qwerty. I still didn't trust her, and I didn't think I ever would. I had to get my side alliances in place, which meant I really only needed to talk to Cashmere and Belladonna. Two phone calls later, and we had a meeting beginning as soon as the tributes started training.

Breakfast was full of the usual banter. Coral pumped both Finnick and me for information on how to get a decent training score, and Hunter listened intensely. He liked to sit back at watch. Maybe that would help him in the arena. He wouldn't be the first person to survive longer than he should simply by paying attention. I fed her every piece of advice I knew, but in the end, it was up to her. Chase was still acting like an idiot. He refrained from talking anymore about his trip to the arena, but I couldn't help shooting him a frosty glare every now and then. Once Chase took the tributes to the training floor and Finnick left to do…whatever it was he did when I wasn't watching, I set out a tea set for my expected guests.

"Arista, I was wondering what was taking so long this year," Cashmere said as I greeted her. We usually had a side alliance. I knew I could count on her to keep up her end of whatever bargain we made.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I've been a little busy this year," I said.

"Scoring deals with Three?" Belladonna asked. She was fishing for something. I think she suspected that there was more behind my deal with Qwerty than I was letting on. Perhaps she thought I was the one trying to secure the alliance. It's what I would have concluded in her place.

"No, actually, Qwerty called me," I said.

"That's what I find so interesting. Qwerty can't stand Four, and yet, she negotiated a deal with you," Cashmere mused.

"She has her reasons," I said, shrugging it off.

"Oh?" Cashmere asked, innocently enough.

"Oh, come on, you guys. You know I never give away all of my secrets. Let's just say that I know enough about Qwerty to be able to trust her as far as we've promised her. She won't turn on us. Now, please, have a seat so that we can talk about what I really called you up here for," I said, motioning to the couch. The girls took seats around the comfortable living room, helping themselves to the tea and goodies I had set out.

"Final Four, girls," I began. Belladonna's interest piqued.

"Four? There are only three of us here. Who's the fourth?" she asked. Very astute.

"Hunter," I said. "He's not a threat to any of you, trust me."

"You expect me to trust an alliance where Four has the numbers?" Belladonna asked.

"Well, from what Glimmer tells me, Hunter can barely hit a target. And he's so small. If he's hiding some amazing talent, I'd be surprised," Cashmere said.

"Yeah, I'm still not comfortable with it. Now, Arista, if you want to talk Final Three of Clove, Glimmer, and Coral, then I'm willing to listen. Otherwise, I think we're finished here," Belladonna said, standing to leave.

"Bella, stop. Let's just talk this out," I said, quickly. This wasn't what I wanted. I wanted Hunter and Coral to be at the end. But, I knew that Coral was going to need the help of Glimmer and Clove to get there. Glimmer and Clove were far greater assets than Hunter, as much as I hated to admit it. Belladonna slowly lowered herself back onto the sofa. I had a strong feeling I as being played. She had something going on with someone else, and I was just a back up alliance.

"Who else are you allied with, Bella?" I asked.

"Like you said, we don't give away all of our secrets now, do we?" she said, throwing my own words back at me. Dammit. I should have known this was going to happen.

"Well, I want you to think about that alliance for a minute, Bella. Whoever you're with, can Clove take care of them alone? Because if you've teamed up with Scar and Cato, you're just as good as dead. Cato's just as skilled as Clove, but he has a huge size advantage over her. Glimmer, Clove, and Coral are all about the same size and evenly matched. It would be a fair playing field at the end," I explained. Belladonna seemed to be contemplating my words.

"I'll have to talk to Clove," Belladonna said sharply, and she headed out. I knew there was no animosity towards me personally; she was looking out for her district, in much the same way I was.

"Cashmere?" I asked. "We can write her out of the deal. I'll talk Final Two or Three with you."

"Honestly, I was getting nervous that you wouldn't ask at all. I don't like the look of Cato or Thresh, and I think it will take both of our girls to take them down. Yeah, I'm in," Cashmere said. I knew I'd be able to at least count on her. "But you know when it comes down to Glimmer and Coral…" she said. She didn't need to finish.

"I know. We're on different sides," I said. Cashmere and I chatted for a while until she went downstairs to wait for Glimmer to come back from training. Shortly after she left, Chase, Finnick, and I were picking at what was available for lunch. Well, Finnick and I were picking. Chase was eating like he didn't have a care in the world. Truth be told, his biggest worry was probably my 'unpersonable nature.'

Hunter was the first to come barreling off the elevator. He flopped into the chair at the dining room table looking positively defeated.

"What happened, Hunter?" Finnick asked.

"I was MISERABLE!" he wailed. "I got so nervous I couldn't do anything right."

"I'm sure you didn't do that badly, Hunter," Finnick said calmly. "Remember, most of the tributes are in the same position you are. They've never even seen a weapon before two days ago." I didn't want to let too much show on my face. Given my earlier conversation, I had a feeling that Hunter wasn't going to last very long, in spite of any efforts by Finnick or me.

"Finnick's right. Don't be too hard on yourself. There are plenty of Victors who scored poorly," I said.

"Yeah, but none of them were up against the tributes we are. Clove and Cato could probably kill all of us on the first day," he said glumly.

"Well, you might not have done as badly as you think you did. We won't know until they release the scores later today," I said, hoping to make him feel a little better. "Did you eat downstairs?" I asked, changing the topic.

"Yeah, but that looks really good," he said, eyeing a plate of roast beef. I passed it across the table to him.

"Help yourself," I said with a smile and watching him pile an entire meal on his plate. No sooner had he torn into it when Coral came flying through the door.

"Hey, kiddo! How did it go down there?" I asked brightly.

"Great! Is there any food?" she asked, slightly breathless. I motioned for her to join us.

"I thought you guys ate downstairs," I said with a smirk.

"Couldn't…" Coral said between huge bites. "Too nervous." I chuckled. I was glad to see both of them eating. In less than forty-eight hours, they would be in the arena, where food would likely be scarce. This was their time to eat as much as they possibly could.

"Do you want to know what happened?" Coral asked after she had eaten enough to stave off whatever hunger pains she had.

"I do, but we should wait until after lunch," I told her. This was the time when we had to start breaking off. Neither Finnick nor I could reveal our entire strategy, even to each other.

"How about now? I can take this with me," Coral said, picking up her plate. I was surprised by her enthusiasm. Then again, nothing this kid did should surprise me anymore.

"Well, gentleman, I guess duty calls. Sure, Coral. Let's go into my room," I suggested. We excused ourselves and settled in the sitting area where we had dinner the night before.

"So, how did you play it?" I asked.

"Well, the stations were set up pretty much the same way they have been for the past two days. I made sure I showed them I could hit anything with a bow and arrow, throwing knives, and spears," she started excitedly. Good. Weaponry usually got a decent score.

"What about the survival stuff? Edible plants, fire making, shelter construction…did you do any of that?" I asked. She nodded quickly through another huge bite.

"I built a fire in three minutes, picked out all of the edible plants in less than a minute, and I did a sample weave…you know, like we make roofs back home," she said. I knew exactly what she was talking about. We used natural elements woven tightly together so that nothing, not even water, can seep through. Anyone who was brought up in Four would know how to do that.

"And then…you're going to love this…you know how we're supposed to stand out, right?" she asked. I nodded. "I asked one of the Gamemakers if I could borrow one of her earrings." Oh, crap. You aren't supposed to actually engage the Gamemakers. Although, rumor has it that it's been done in the past, and it can definitely make you memorable, but the sessions are private, so rumors were the only source of information available.

"And?" I asked, not really sure I wanted to hear the rest of this.

"I made a fish hook out of it and gave it back to her," Coral said, beaming. Actually, that was pretty good.

"Where did you learn..." I began.

"Mags. My parents had me taking lessons with her when I was a kid," she explained. Mags. Yes, that was how she had won her Games. Mags would have taught her well because she didn't share my loathing of volunteers.

"It sounds like you did just fine, Coral. We'll see what happens when they release the scores," I said. "Tomorrow, we can go over your kill list."

"Kill list?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm working up my preferred order to eliminate tributes. It's designed to take out the big threats first, keep the easy kills for the end, and honor all of the alliances I've made on your behalf," I explained. Coral looked confused.

"How can you plan something like that?" she asked.

"Well, like I said, it's a _preferred_ list. If you have opportunities that arise, take them. But, it's always best to know who to take out first," I said. She nodded.

"Makes sense. Let me guess, Thresh is way up at the top," she said. I laughed.

"Yes, he is. Listen, I don't want to share too much of it with you just yet. The training scores may change several things, so we'll go over it tomorrow," I explained to her. The conversation drifted off into a more personal nature. Coral told me about her family. She was the second oldest of six girls, and the only one her parents had ever groomed for the Hunger Games. She came from an extremely poor part of Four, and had taken tesserae her entire life. In fact, her parents had insisted that she carry the entire family by herself the moment she was old enough, figuring that increasing her odds of being reaped would keep their other children safe.

"Why not?" Coral told me when I asked her about the discrepancy. "I was always planning to go into the Games. So, increasing my chances works for everyone in the end."

"Coral, did you want to go into the Games?" I asked. She studied my face carefully. I was trying to mimic the look my mother uses when she's looking for an honest answer. When she used that, there was no way I could lie to her, even if I wanted to.

"No," Coral said softly. "I wanted to go fishing and play and just be a normal kid. But, my parents thought I had a talent for survival, so…" She finished her statement with a shrug.

"So here you are," I finished for her.

"I know my parents asked you to train me," she said so softly I almost missed it. "Why did you say no?" I felt the wind knocked out of me. Was there something I could have done ten years ago to give this girl an edge? I doubted it. I had made it through the Games mostly on sheer dumb luck, although Games analysts had a far different version of events. And Annie, well, Annie had been smart enough to stay reasonably unharmed and out of the way.

"Coral, it wasn't you. I don't train anyone for the Games," I explained.

"Why not? If we're going to volunteer, why not give us every edge you possibly can?" she asked. She wasn't arguing; she was questioning.

"Because, volunteers have a tendency to come in here arrogant and cocky. They think they have the perfect strategy, and that they've been so well trained, they can't lose. They're practically counting their money before they leave the Justice Building," I explained. "Sound familiar?" Coral blushed slightly and looked embarrassed. "And, I just don't like the idea of children being raised as experts in that sort of violence. I participate in the Games as much as I'm required to, but other than that, I really just want to be left alone. I like my solitude out there in the Victor's Village. It gives me time to chase away my demons."

"So, you were never a volunteer," Coral added.

"Nope. I was reaped just like Hunter. And I was terrified. But, what Mags taught me was how to listen to that fear to stay alive, and that's what I've been trying to teach you," I said.

"That, and that I need to trust my mentor," she added. I chuckled.

"That too," I added.

"Arista? Coral?" came Finnick's voice through the door followed by a soft knock.

"Yeah," I called to him.

"They're about to announce the training scores," he said. I looked at Coral. I knew so much more about her now, and this was the part that my mother had cautioned me against. I had gotten too involved, too personal. And she only had a one in twenty-four chance of surviving the next few weeks.

_**Is anyone reading this? If you are, I'd love to hear from you! Reviews are always awesome, and it's a really good motivational tool to keep writing. **_


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Coral and I settled ourselves on the long sofa facing the screen along with Hunter, Finnick, and the prep teams of both stylists. Chase sat in one of the armchairs off to the side, going on and on about how exciting these Games were getting. I really wished he'd just shut up. Coral and I had missed dinner, caught up in our conversation, so we perched plates piled high with food on our laps while we waited for the program to start. I don't know how the other districts operate, but we protect privacy in Four. Mealtimes were not considered important enough to interrupt a private conversation, considering food could be delivered at the press of a button. Only Games-related events were important enough to interrupt a mentor and tribute, such as this broadcast. I was thoroughly enjoying my shrimp and pasta when the anthem began to play.

"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we announce the training scores earned by this year's tributes," Caesar Flickerman began. He hosted the broadcasts of Games events every year, and he would be interviewing the tributes tomorrow night. "As you are all aware, tributes are awarded a score out of a possible twelve points based on the Gamemakers' observations during training. Now, remember folks, a low score doesn't necessarily mean a tribute should be discounted. On the contrary, we've seen many Victors with scores as low as three or four over the years."

"Is that true?" Hunter asked.

"Yes, it is," I said, followed by a shush. Caesar was going on about the intricacies of the scoring system, and how scores can affect sponsorship. It didn't matter to us, though. We had plenty of cash. Although, sponsors could back out if they didn't like what they saw tonight.

"Now then, on to tonight's scores," Caesar continued. "From District One, Marvel." A headshot of Marvel appeared next to Caesar's face.

"Nine." A number ten appeared underneath the photo.

"Glimmer." Glimmer's face replaced Marvel's. "Nine.

"From District Two, Cato." Cato's face appeared. "Ten. Clove. Ten.

From District Three, Synch. Six." Six. _Six!_ What was this kid hiding? Maybe he was better than I originally thought. Secretly, I was thankful that Qwerty had contacted me. My musings caused me to miss the other score from Three.

"From District Four, Hunter. Four." Hunter groaned loudly next to me and buried his head in his hands. I couldn't console him just yet, though. "Coral. Ten." She squealed. If I ever needed more verification that she truly was just another teenage girl, I got it at that moment. I reached over and gave her a smile and a friendly squeeze on her arm. She was grinning from ear to ear.

The rest of the scores came out basically the way I had expected. The average score was right around a five, but Rue, the little twelve-year-old from Eleven managed to score a seven. It didn't matter, though. Twelve-year-olds were easy to knock off. I had almost tuned out the broadcast completely by the time Caesar got to District Twelve.

"From District Twelve. Peeta. Eight. Katniss." Caesar paused for a minute and appeared to double check the paper in front of him. I felt my stomach drop. Twelve was full of surprises this year. "Eleven." Eleven. _Eleven!_ Did Caesar just say _eleven!_

"There you have it, folks, the scores for the tributes of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games!" Caesar finished. The anthem played, and the scream went dark. I was still trying to pick my jaw up off of the floor.

"How in the hell did that girl get an eleven?" I cried as soon as the music ended. Silence. "That wasn't a rhetorical question. Hunter? Coral? You've seen her in training. What's she hiding?"

"I…I don't know," Coral answered. "She mostly stayed to the survival stations…knot tying, fire building, edible plants, that kind of stuff."

"Well she must be hiding something," I said. My tone wasn't accusatory, but I wanted to know exactly what this girl could do. No, I didn't need to know. I just had to make sure she died as soon as that gong sounded. Then it wouldn't matter what she was hiding. I could ask Haymitch about her, but that wouldn't be fair to him. No, I absolutely refused to make him another pawn in my strategy like I had with all of the other mentors. I was going to have to figure this one out myself.

"Hunter, it's fine. Seriously, don't worry about your score. It's just a number," I heard Finnick say. His arm was around a sobbing Hunter. "Like Caesar said, plenty of Victors have had low scores."

"Oh yeah? Name one," Hunter said. Finnick looked at me.

"Arista Waters," I answered. Hunter stopped sobbing long enough to process what I had said.

"Really?" he asked.

"Really," I answered.

"What was your score?" he asked.

"A four. Same as you," I answered.

"_You_ only scored a _four?_" Coral asked in disbelief. "What did you do?"

"Well…" I began, as I started my tale.

_I had eaten lunch alone, again, observing the people around me. I didn't trust anyone in this room, not even my district partner. I tried to eat the food in front of me, but I couldn't. I knew I was going to have to dazzle the Gamemakers with something, but what? My talent was observation and a keen sense of how people operate. I was a strategist. That's not something that can easily be turned into a show. The Careers terrified me. The tributes from One and Two were eager, and ready to jump into the arena. And I knew they would be gunning for me. They would be after anyone who wasn't in their little pack._

_As soon as lunch was over, they began calling us into the gymnasium one at a time. Like everything else to the Games, there was an order about it. First the boy, then the girl from each district. I picked at my food while Districts One and Two we showing off to the Gamemakers._

"_Ash Brookstone," came a mechanical female voice over a speaker. I looked at Ash, my district partner and tried to force a smile, some sort of gesture for luck in his direction. He was white as a ghost. He was only twelve. Just a kid. _

_I was done eating. I had managed a few bites, but I threw my fork down in defeat. I was still wracking my brain, trying to figure out what to do when they called my name, which had to be…_

"_Arista Waters," the mechanical voice said. Now. This was it. _

_I walked into the same gymnasium I had spent the past two days in, only it seemed bigger and more intimidating in the absence of the other tributes. I walked up to the Gamemakers, who were poised with notepads and writing implements. Some of them were nibbling from the giant buffet set to the side, but for the most part, they were curious to see what I would do._

"_Arista Waters, District Four," I said, almost questioning. I stayed planted on that spot, not sure what to do next._

"_Well, go on, Dear. Show us what you can do," a female Gamemaker with purple hair told me. I nodded and bit my lip, looking around the room. The water tank. It wasn't much, but at least it was something. It was off to the side and made of a clear material so observers could see through it. I shimmied up the ladder, and dove it cleanly. Once the clear, cool liquid washed over me, I felt at ease. It was like a homecoming, of sorts. The water drowned out all of the distractions in the room, and I could almost pretend I was home again. _

_I swam the length of the tank several times, showing off all of the various strokes I had learned over the years. Freestyle, backstroke, breast stroke…hell, I even threw in a little butterfly just because I could. I popped my head up and looked back over at the Gamemakers' table. Some of them had lost interest. Ok, almost half of them had lost interest. I wasn't making myself memorable. Time for something else. But what?_

_I quickly walked over to the knot station and tied the nautical knots I could remember from childhood. I really wasn't sure what other skills to use. I could see that the Gamemakers were quickly losing interest in me. I needed to try something else._

_And then it hit me. The words my father said. I was a fisherman._

_I had been diving for oysters and other small shellfish for as long as I could remember. It was one of my chores, and it brought more money into the fishery. I picked up one of the diving bricks we used in training and tested the weight. Yes, this would work nicely. I took a good breath and plunged to the bottom of the tank with the rubber coated brick in my hand. _

_Once I arrived at the bottom, I flipped over and settled the brick on my chest, allowing the weight of the object to force my body underwater. And then I waited. I closed my eyes and conjured my mother's face. I wondered what she would say at this moment. No matter what happened, she would be proud. And then I picture Reef, and I wondered what would happen if I actually won this thing. What would he say? How would he react? He believed I could do this. I just wish I had half of his confidence. But the stark reality of it was that I would probably be dead soon. _

_My lungs were starting to hurt. I started the process of slowly letting out the breath I had been holding in slow, controlled spurts. I was perfectly comfortable in this cocoon of water. I let my father's face fill my mind. He was always closer to Reef, but he never failed to remind me that I was his baby girl. Dad was the one who took me on the boat, showed me how to rig all of the lines, fix the nets, and bring in the best catches. I was starting to feel the weight of the brick on my chest. I was almost out of air. I couldn't stay down here in the safety of the water. However much of a love for water I had, I didn't actually have gills. I picked up the brick and began a gradual ascent towards the surface. By the time I broke through, my lungs were ready to burst. I inhaled several deep breaths, gasping._

_I looked at the Gamemakers' table when I recovered, and they were all hovered around some sort of timekeeping device._

"_9 minutes, 42 seconds," one of them said. Every single one of them looked back at me. I replaced the brick and climbed out of the tank. I could hear the sloshing in my shoes as I squeaked across the floor of the gymnasium._

"_Thank you, Arista. You are excused. You may exit through the door on the left and return to your floor," the female with the purple hair told me. I swallowed hard and squished my way back to the elevator, hoping that I hadn't done too badly._

I chuckled at the memory. In hindsight, it seemed like an absolutely ridiculous thing to do, and yet, it had been my ability to hold my breath for an unreasonable amount of time that had saved my life when the arena flooded.

"So, the moral of the story is that you never know just what will get you through the arena," I concluded. Hunter seemed more hopeful now that he knew my story.

"Yeah, but at least you did _something,_" Hunter said. "I didn't manage to show _any_ skills."

"You must have showed them something, or else you wouldn't have gotten a four. They would have give you a one or a two," Finnick said.

"I guess…" he said, not convinced.

"Hunter, listen to me. I've watched you over these past few days. You're observant. Now, that's not something you can show the Gamemakers in fifteen minutes, but it _can _save your life. You pick up on things other people don't, and you do it without drawing attention to yourself," I said.

"Arista's right. That's a skill that can be far more valuable than mastering any weapon. You know how to avoid conflict and danger," Finnick said. Hunter seemed to perk up slightly.

"Ok, you two. It's getting late. Off to bed with you," I said, tapping my watch.

"Yes, Mom," Hunter said mockingly. I smiled and shooed them towards their rooms.

"Umm…Arista?" Coral said. "Can I ask you something? Privately?"

"Sure. Let's go this way," I said, ushering her towards her bedroom. "What's going on?" I asked, closing the door.

"What you said in there, do you really think Hunter has a chance?" she asked. That was a tricky question. Believing Hunter had a chance meant that she didn't. I sighed. "You asked me to be honest with you. Please be honest with me," she added. It was a fair request.

"Honestly?" I said. She nodded. "No. I don't think he has much of a chance." She let out a breath I didn't realize she had been holding.

"I thought for a minute…" she began.

"That I was putting my money on him?" I finished.

"Yeah," she said.

"No, honey. You're the safer bet from Four. And even if you weren't, I wouldn't give a damn. You're still my tribute, and I'm going to do my damndest to get you home. I just hate to see Hunter cry," I said.

"I'm going to have to kill him, aren't I?" Coral asked, in a sort of far off tone.

"I hope not," I said. "But more likely than not, he'll be dead soon. I just hope that we've given him a small amount of peace before that happens."

"I could be dead soon, too," she said, in that same far off voice. It was if things were really starting to sink in for her. I didn't say anything. I wouldn't insult her by trying to convince her that everything would be ok when, deep down, I knew the odds sucked. No matter how good she was, the odds were still lousy.

"Get some sleep, Coral. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow," I said, pulling out a set of pajamas for her.

"What's tomorrow?" she asked.

"Interviews. You'll have four hours of presentation with Chase, and then you'll be with me for four hours for content," I explained. "Then you get to have fun with Lena."

"Joy," she said sarcastically. I couldn't blame her after the whole fish scale thing from the Opening Ceremonies. I chuckled.

"Don't worry, you'll actually get clothes this time," I said.

"Arista?" she asked as I made my way to the door.

"Hm?" I said.

"Is it ok if I take one of those sleeping pills again?" she asked. I had been prepared for this.

"Of course," I said. I gave the order to the dark-haired Avox, who disappeared.

"Anything else?" I asked.

"Just…thank you," she said, wrapping her arms around me. "For everything." I embraced her warmly.

"You never have to thank me. I'd do it all over again if I had to," I whispered to her. I waited for the Avox to return with the sleeping pill and put Coral to bed. By the time I returned to the living room, everyone else had cleared out. I went to my own room and changed into a comfortable set of cotton pajamas. I hadn't heard from Haymitch today, so I wasn't sure if he would be able to sneak down or not. I sat down at my desk and reviewed my kill list.

I'm not sure how long I had been sitting there before my eyes started to cross. I worked out the kinks in my neck, reviewing the most recent revision. I had reworked the thing four times, and something was still bugging me. I needed sleep. I crossed the room, shut the lights off, and slipped between the cool sheets. No sooner had I closed my eyes when I heard a soft rap on my door.

I groaned. Whoever it was had terrible timing. I didn't even bother to turn the light on before opening the door, and peering into the hallway with squinted, sleepy eyes.

Haymitch.

"Arista…" he began. He was rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he was nervous about something. "I need a favor."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

I stepped back wordlessly and let him into my room. He stood in the center and sort of paced as if he couldn't figure out how to phrase his request. I turned the lights on, but kept the level low to prevent them from blinding me. I crossed my arms over my chest and watched him, waiting for him to speak. Finally, he gathered his thoughts.

"I…I need to get Peeta into the Career alliance," he said quickly. _What!_ He couldn't have asked that. No, I might have been able to get him in at the beginning, but now?

"Oh, Haymitch…" I said, crossing the room and lowering myself onto the sofa. I rubbed my face and sat hunched over with my elbows on my knees. "You're asking me this _now?_"

"I know, I know it's late," Haymitch said, taking a seat next to me. "but if anyone can make this happen, it's you. And I'm hoping you'll help me out." I sighed.

"But the alliance is set. We've been planning this since before the Opening Ceremonies," I said. I didn't want to do this. Not just for strategic reasons, but for personal ones, too.

"I don't know, Haymitch. One of the reasons we've never allied in the past was to protect our relationship. We can't be seen too close together in public," I explained. I was afraid that an alliance with Twelve would give us away. You never know what other people will pick up on. A brush of the hand, a look, any small gesture. It was easier to stay away from him if our tributes weren't working together. We would have our time to console each other after…

"I know all of that, but just hear me out," he said. I was listening, but I couldn't help thinking this was a very bad idea.

"I'd like for one of them to win, and I think I might actually have a real chance this year," Haymitch said. I couldn't blame him. My biggest threat was his biggest promise.

"So, I take it you're choosing Peeta this year?" I asked, although that made no sense to me. "Katniss shows far more promise. So, the question is, why are you on my couch seeking an alliance for _Peeta_?"

"I'm not," he said. I studied his face closely as he looked at the floor. It was a guilty look, as though this conversation was a death sentence. I suppose in a way it was, for at least one of his tributes. "Peeta doesn't stand a chance against any of the Careers, except possibly Hunter, assuming you have the usual One-Two-Four alliance going this year," he explained. I nodded. There was no harm in sharing this information with him. He would guard my strategic secrets with his life.

"It's what he wants. He thinks he can be useful to the Careers, but…" he couldn't finish his sentence.

"You think it's far more likely they'll turn on him early and kill him," I said softly.

"Yeah," he said.

"I have to figure out a way to pitch it to the others. I have five hard-core mentors to convince to go along with this. Are you sure you want to send that boy to his death?" I asked.

"I want to give him the best chance at a quick death. I know that if Katniss has to do it, she'll make it quick, but I don't want the Careers to take their time mutilating him," he said. He was right. Non-alliance kills were usually drawn out, bloody, and very show worthy. I didn't like the practice, but it was a concession I made to have Two on my side. The exception was the initial bloodbath, but there was so much action there no one really cared _how _the tributes died, only that they did. But alliance kills, that was a different story. They were usually courteous enough to kill each other as painlessly as possible.

"Please, Arista," he begged, taking my hands into his. I thought of the massive amount of work I was going to have to do, possibly jeopardizing Coral's standing in that alliance. And yet, the man who I loved more than anything in the world, who had never asked me for a thing, was making this one request. Could I trade Coral's well-being for his conscience?

"I'll see what I can do," I said finally. "But I can't make any promises."

"I know. And I'm grateful for whatever you can do," Haymitch said, bringing his lips to mine.

"Hang on a second," I said, stopping him from kissing me. "You have to swear to me that this won't come between us. We both have our own agendas. You want to pull Katniss out, and I want Coral out. If one of them wins, it can't come between us. I don't think I could handle losing you."

"We've never let the Games come between us before," he said.

"Because we've never tried to work together before. Look, I don't care about stabbing Cashmere or Scar in the back. We've been doing this for so long, it's a normal part of our relationship. But we're different."

"So, what you're saying is that you don't want me to hate you if Coral kills Katniss or Peeta," he said. It wasn't a question; it was a statement.

"I mean it, Haymitch. I'd rather send you out of here, annoyed with me tonight, than do anything that could damage what we have. It's one of the few completely beautiful things in my life, and I don't want to give that up," I explained to him.

"Arista, I promise. I will be grateful for anything you can do. But, I have the same job you do, whether or not I take it as seriously as you do. This is business, and nothing more. My feelings for you personally could never change," he said to me with the absolute, utmost sincerity. My heart melted.

"Ok," I said softly. I would help him as much as I could. Maybe it would be enough. Maybe one of us would get what we wanted this year. Maybe…_dammit, Arista, stop getting your hopes up. _

"Now can I kiss you?" he asked impatiently. I smirked and nodded my head, the tension in the room suddenly lifting. I melted into his embrace. The incredible surge of emotions that rushed through my body when he kissed me never ceased to amaze me.

"God, I love you," he said between kisses. I let his words wash over me as I tried to return the sentiment through my own actions.

"Take me to bed," I whispered back to him. His eyes searched mine before he scooped me up off the couch and relocated us to the bed. As his body covered mine, I reveled in the feeling of safety and security that only he could provide. He made love to me in an almost painful, slow manner, as if he was trying to fuse us together on the most intimate level.

"How do you do it?" he asked softly. We were lying together, my head on his chest, his hand lazily running through my hair.

"Do what?" I asked.

"Work so hard for your tribute and lose them year after year," he said. I shrugged.

"Not very well. Every year, I tell myself that I'm not going to care, that I'm going to keep my distance, and every year I make the same mistake," I said honestly.

"What mistake?" he asked.

"I see a child in front of me, and I can't bear to let him or her spend their last few days here in terror when I can do something about it. Where is all of this coming from?" I asked.

"I tried that, in the beginning," he confessed. "But by the time you met me, I pretty much stopped caring. It was just so much easier to spend the Games drunk and let nameless faces die."

"So what's different for you this year?" I asked. I felt him shift under me.

"Nothing, I guess. When you made me promise to stay sober during the Games seven years ago, I did it because I couldn't stand to see you so upset, but never because I thought it would change anything," he said. "But, it's so much harder to watch sober."

"I know," I told him. "But your tributes should have a mentor who cares about what happens them. They can't help that they were born in Twelve."

"And I know that. Arista, you've made me a better mentor and a better man. You have no idea how much that means to me," he said. My heart swelled again, and not for the first time, I wished I could take him back home to Four.

"This is our last night together, isn't it?" I asked, thinking about what lay before us. Tomorrow would be the night before Launch, and after that, we would be stuck in the Mentors' Box until we were eliminated. Ok, Haymitch might not be stuck, but I refused to leave until it was over for me.

"Yeah…I need to be with Katniss and Peeta tomorrow. And you…" he said.

"I know. Coral needs me," I said. Tomorrow would be a late night. Strategies would have to be finalized because there wouldn't be much time on Launch day. I wrapped my arms around him tighter than before. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I didn't want to cry, and yet, the pain of losing him was just too much to even think about. I felt the teardrops go heavy and fall onto his chest.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," I answered, trying to hide the sounds my body was making.

"You're crying. Come here," he said, pulling me even closer to him and raising my face to his.

"I'm not ready to let you go," I said, still trying to push the emotions harder.

"Ohhh…" he said, cradling my head again. I buried my face into his chest as the sobs came over me. "I don't want to let you go either," he whispered. He held me as I cried my emotions out, stroking my back and hair. We laid like that for hours, trying to console each other, and yet, in the end, we knew we were just going to be miserable.

"Shit, Arista," Haymitch said suddenly. I lifted my head and followed his gaze out the window. Dawn was breaking. We had been awake all night long. "Honey, I have to go," he said with an urgency in his voice. He kissed me and started pulling on his clothes.

"I'll talk to the others today. I'll get word to you, somehow," I promised him. He kissed me again, fully dressed. I pulled him close and gave him one more final kiss.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "Good luck," he said before he slipped out the door. I curled up and sobbed into his pillow for at least another hour. And then, I decided it was time to be strict with myself. I forced those emotions back into the bottle with some difficulty, showered and dressed.

I had a tribute to prep.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

No sooner had I emerged from the bathroom when I heard a shriek echoing off the walls. And then I realized that the shriek was coming from me. Standing just over the threshold were the far too happy faces of Lima, Una, Pela, and Lena.

"Hel-LO, darling!" Lena practically squealed. Dear Lord, what on earth did I do to deserve such, such…chipperness this early in the morning.

"Interview Day," I muttered, groaning into the doorframe. While I was left to make myself presentable most of the time, but there were certain events that required Lena's expertise, and Interview Day was one of them. Before the tributes were interviewed, the mentors were formally introduced, and over the years, it had become a fashion show of its own. The Capitol citizens always viewed it as a sort of warm up to the main event of the night. And here was my old prep team – now Coral's team – to ensure that Four was properly presented.

"What until you see what we've cooked up this year!" Pela exclaimed. I swear, they must have poured an entire pound of coffee down every one of their throats. That was the only way to explain their enthusiasm at this ungodly hour of the morning.

"Can I at least get breakfast?" I asked, still trying to wake myself up. I was going to need help to get through this day, considering I had spent the entire night awake with Haymitch.

"Of course you can, dear," Una said, handing me a plate and a steaming mug. Una was always the one I tolerated best of the four. She wasn't quite as perky as the others, and she always seemed to remember that I was a human being and not just some window display.

"Thank you," I said, setting the offered goods on the desk and starting to pick at the food. I had only managed a few bites when Lima whisked it away, much to my protest.

"Tsk, tsk," Lena said. "We have quite a bit of work to do, and very little time to do it in. Now, then, let me have a good look at you." She scrutinized my appearance once again, narrowing her eyes.

"Have you lost weight?" she asked after several minutes. I thought back over the past year. I suppose it was possible. I went through days where I couldn't stand to eat and would only manage to do so at my mother's insistence.

"I don't think so…" I began.

"Never mind. I can fix it before tonight," she said. She had whipped out a measuring tape and was busy taking the information she would need to do…whatever it was that she needed to do. Then she sent me to change into nothing but a bathroom so the rest of the crew could do their work.

"Ladies, you know what to do!" Lena exclaimed with a wave of her hand. She dashed through the door in a frenzy. It was then that I noticed they already set up a plain, thin, hard table in the middle of the room. Lima turned towards me, stirring a bowl. I knew immediately what it was.

"Oh, no. I'm not letting you _near_ me with that stuff. Now look, I've followed your instructions to the letter, and I've shaved every single day," I said, protesting the waxing procedure she wanted to do.

"But Lena…" she began.

"Lena's not here, and I'm not some scared tribute you can bully around. Now, you just put that stuff away because you won't be needing it," I said firmly. The first time they had waxed my body my skin had been on fire. There was no way I was going to go through that sort of pain again. Lima's face took on a panicked look, but she reluctantly set the bowl down. "Look, if Lena wants someone to be angry with, send her to me. I'll deal with her," I said more calmly. Her face brightened.

"Well then, if we're going to skip that, have a seat," Pela said, motioning to a chair. I sat down and closed my eyes as the three of them descended on me like a pack of vultures. Pela's hands whipped through my hair, dousing it with liquids and gels I couldn't identify while Una took one of my hands and started fussing over my nails. Lima busied herself at my face, applying layer after layer of cosmetics. I felt like these three were encasing me in a fake body to go with my fake personality. Their hands flew at lightning speed, and three and a half hours later, they stood back admiring their work.

"I swear, you get prettier and prettier every year," Una said. She had worked wonders on my hands and feet, and they felt soft and smooth. The nails were meticulously trimmed and filed, and a final coat of polish was applied for purely aesthetic purposes. I looked in the mirror. Lima had evened out my skin tone, enhancing the sun kissed olive tone, created full, lush lips, and painted my eyes so that their normal green colored danced back at me like a pair of emeralds. Pela had piled my hair in a series of artfully arranged twirls and braids on the top of my head, leaving a few loose tendrils to frame my face perfectly. The entire thing was held in place by a silver crown, fashioned as an imitation of the one I had been presented with when I won my Games. All of the victors would be wearing them, but I wondered how many of them were using them as hairpieces as well.

I had to admit, I was impressed. The woman staring back at me seemed like an entirely different person, and I suppose she was, in a way. This was Arista Waters, Victor of the 59th Hunger Games, the public figure. The woman I saw in the mirror every other day was Arista Waters, just a poor girl from District Four. Who was I kidding, though, really. I wasn't that girl anymore either. Who was I? Certainly not this beautiful person in front of me. No, I was Arista Waters, a girl who couldn't figure out where she belonged.

"Wow. This looks amazing, guys," I said, hoping my voice sounded happy and excited enough for them. From the smiles and looks of pride, I had definitely been convincing enough.

"I agree," Lena said. I hadn't even noticed her enter my room while I was trying to figure out the girl in the mirror. "Now, for the final touch." She hung a plain gray bag in my closet, and helped me into my undergarments, which pinched and cinched and lifted everything to its proper place on my body. Then she blocked the bag with her body while she unzipped and removed it, revealing the dress inside.

I gasped at the sight of it. It was floor length and the entire thing seemed to be made from blue jewels. The thin straps consisted of a row of diamonds, carefully connecting the front to the back. The back was just as beautiful as the front. Layers upon layers of a flowey light blue material I didn't recognize cascaded down the length, ending in a train. It gave the illusion of a waterfall.

"Lena…" I began. "It's…" I was absolutely speechless.

"Let's get you into it," Lena said softly. With her help, I managed to get into the dress, and when Lena zipped it up, I realized it fit like a glove. Not an inch of the entire garment was too big or small, too long or short.

"Now for the shoes," Lena said, holding up a pair of strappy silver sandals, also embedded with diamond. And five inch heels.

"Heels?" I asked skeptically.

"Oh, come on, darling, you know how this works. Finnick is far too much taller than you for anything shorter than these. If we did that, you two would look awkward together onscreen," she said. I sighed and let her fit them on my feet. Years of practice had made me a master at walking in them, but they still hurt my feet after a few minutes. Lena proceeded to accent the outfit with drop earrings in the same blue jewels as the dress, and ornate necklace of diamonds and blue jewels, and a diamond bracelet completed the look. I turned towards the mirror again. Nope, this definitely wasn't me. I didn't know who it was, but it wasn't me. This woman was poised, elegant, and…gorgeous. And I was none of those things.

"Yes, this will work," Lena pronounced.

"Can I at least wear regular clothes until tonight?" I asked.

"Of course you can," she said, helping me out of the elaborate outfit. "As long as you don't put anything over your head. Buttoned tops only. I don't want that hair mussed until _after_ the interviews." I complied with her wishes, changing into a casual buttoned blouse, and the tweed pants I had put on before.

By the time we finished up, it was nearly lunch time, so I hurried into casual clothes – putting on a buttoned top so as not to incur Lena's wrath, and headed out to lunch. I must have made an interesting sight because every head turned towards me when I entered the room.

"What are you all looking at?" I asked, taking my seat.

"You look…beautiful," Chase finally stammered.

"Stop. You've seen me done up before," I quipped back, helping myself to the food on the table. It was some sort of rice dish laden with vegetables and shrimp, and it was delicious. The usual spread of fruit, cheese, and bread was present, as well as a selection of soups, stews, and a big, fresh salad. I heaped the fresh vegetables onto my plate, knowing dinner would be late tonight because of the interviews.

"Yes, but you look lovelier and lovelier each year, my dear," he said.

"Just wait until you see the dress. It weighs a ton, but it's incredible," I told him, biting into a piece of bread.

"So, after lunch, we work with you guys, right?" Hunter asked, changing the subject.

"Yup. You have time with us before the interviews, and then you go to your prep teams. We're lucky, Hunter. It always takes longer to get the girls ready than the boys," Finnick said with a wink.

"Well, yeah, because we can't just comb our hair and throw on a tuxedo," I quipped back. Lena beamed. She rarely got any sort of validation from me, and here I was, acknowledging that she did real work. Lunch revolved around small talk, and I was starting to grow a bit suspicious. Finnick wasn't discussing strategy at the table anymore. We had definitely reached the stage where we had to break off and form our own strategies.

After lunch, I sat with Coral in my chambers. My job was to prepare her with interview content. Chase would have already worked on her presentation skills. Some escorts prepped their tributes separately, but we chose to have them done together. No secrets would be revealed in presentation, and there was no strategic advantage in prepping them separately. So, now Hunter was with Finnick, and I was with Coral.

"Ok, Coral, first things first. Chase knows what he's doing, but he's still a man, and there are certain things he doesn't think of. Did he teach you how to walk in heels?" I asked. Coral's eyes went wide, and I knew what her answer was going to be.

"Heels? They want me in _heels?_" she asked. I sighed.

"Lena puts _every _girl in heels," I answered. I pulled out a pair from my closet, estimating that we were about the same size. Lucky for me, I was right. Coral slipped on the shoes and teetered around the room. I pulled on a pair of my own, and taught her how to walk. Toe-heel, toe-heel, toe-heel.

"So, what am I supposed to say in the interview?" Coral asked as she tried to master walking in the foreign shoes.

"First of all, don't tell them you've trained for the Games. Technically, it's not allowed, and we don't want to openly admit that it's going on," I said.

"What would they do if they found out? They can't arrest me, can they?" she asked.

"They can, but they probably wouldn't. Then they'd have to get a new tribute from Four. The most likely outcome is that the Gamemakers would engineer a way to take you out of the Games," I explained.

"What do you mean?" she asked, gripping a chair for balance as she stumbled. She quickly straightened herself up and started walking again.

"Do you remember a boy named Titus from a few years ago?" I asked.

"Yeah, he cut out the hearts of his kills and ate them, didn't he?" she replied. I nodded.

"Cannibalism isn't really…an activity the Capitol approves of, and it makes for bad television. So, in order to ensure that a tribute who wasn't well liked didn't win, the Gamemakers orchestrated the avalanche that killed him. You want them to like you, all the time. It's not a coincidence that the ones that are well-liked win," I explained.

"Ok, so how do I make them like me?" she asked.

"Just be yourself. Or, at least, that sugary side of your personality with good manners. You need to appear confident, but not cocky. Talk about your family, but only if you can make them sound good," I said. She really didn't need my help on this. She had been groomed for this piece of it.

"Don't worry. I know all about keeping secrets," she said, with a slightly haunted look in her eyes.

"Coral, I need to talk to you about something strategy-wise," I said, motioning for her to join me on the sofa. She had gotten pretty good in the heels. She'd be fine. When she was seated, I continued. "I've had a funny feeling about the girl from Twelve since the Reaping," I began.

"And she got an eleven in training," Coral added. I nodded. I swear, this girl and I were right on the same page about all of this.

"I've been working on a plan to deal with her. Ideally, she needs to be taken out at the Cornucopia, but I'm betting she's too smart for that. She'll likely flee, and you'll have to hunt her down. Now, there has to be a reason she got an eleven, and I haven't figured out what it is, but there's one person who will know," I said.

"The boy from Twelve," Coral answered. I nodded.

"Exactly. I'm going to work with the mentor from Twelve to try to get him into the pack. I want you to use him to track her down," I explained.

"And after she's gone?" Coral asked.

"Kill him at the first chance you get," I said, steeling my jaw. Outside, I was the confident mentor, but inside, my heart was breaking because I had just plotted to kill the two tributes the love of my life was mentoring. I felt like such a traitor.

And yet, Coral agreed.


	20. Chapter 20

_**I am so sorry for the delay on this chapter. The first 19 chapters of this story practically wrote themselves, but then a lot happened. I got stuck on where to go next, and I got sidetracked by a story I'm writing in another fandom. I think I know where I'm headed with this, so updates should be more frequent again. Thanks to all of you who have stuck with the story.**_

**Chapter 20**

I sent Coral off with Lena for her own makeover, while I took lunch in my room. I selected a simple salad liberally sprinkled with cold shrimp with the slightest amount of dressing. I knew Lena would have a fit if I mussed my make up at this stage. It didn't take much to intimidate her, but I really just wasn't in the mood today. I sat at my desk, carefully making notes on how this would work with Peeta in our new alliance, and trying not to think about what this could mean for my relationship with Haymitch. It wasn't long before there was a soft knock at my door.

"Enter," I said, slightly distracted.

"Arista, we're ready for you," Chase said, popping his head in the door.

"Thank you," I said, carefully laying the pen on top of the paper and following him out into the hallway. Finnick and I exited the Training Center. In front of the building, twelve black cars waited, each one bearing the seal of a different district. More Peacekeepers kept tabs on the growing crowds as each delegation headed for their respective cars. Chase would bring along the tributes closer to their time.

"Arista, what's wrong?" Finnick asked. I turned to him in surprise.

"What? Nothing…why would you think something's wrong?" I asked.

"You were scowling," he said.

"I always scowl, so what?" I retorted. He chuckled and shook his head.

"Never mind," he said. We went through a process that was becoming second nature to me by now. Once we arrived at the studio, we were ushered to a dressing room bearing the number "4" in gold. The space was divided into thirds, with the main entrance in the center. It was a comfortable place for us to wait, with its plush furniture and buffet that was continuously overflowing with food. To the left, was the boys changing room, and to the right, the girls. I headed immediately through the door on the right. There, Lena zipped me into my incredible gown, and Lima and Una put the finishing touches on my hair and make-up. Before I knew it, I was being cued.

We were there for the pre-show, which was a way to warm the Capitol citizens up for the main event – the interviews. Here, the mentors would be officially announced, even though some would be obvious, like Haymitch. One of the stage hands took me to the pre-stage area. This was the part I despised.

It was a small chamber, barely big enough for three people comfortably. And in the corner, looming over me, was clear tube, big enough for one. At the bottom was a pedestal that could be raised to the stage, a pedestal that was all too familiar.

"_Good luck, Dear," Lena said, hugging me. My heart was pounding in my ears. This was it. I could be dead in five minutes. Any minute now, I was going to open my eyes and discover that this entire thing was just a horrible dream._

"_Ten seconds," a disembodied female voice said through the speakers._

"_Go on," Lena said, shoving me gently towards the clear tube in the corner of the room. I was dressed in the outfit provided…dark colored slacks with multiple pockets, a gray T-shirt, and a light jacket, designed to provide warmth well after the sun had set. A pair of black sturdy shoes completed the ensemble. My hair was twisted into an elaborate updo, not designed to be pretty, but to stay out of my face._

_I stepped into the tube, feeling more terrified than I had ever felt in my life. This was worse than the reaping, because now it was real. It was actually happening._

"_Whatever you do, don't step off early," Lena cautioned me. I nodded. I knew about the explosives, although people wondered if that story was actually true. No one had ever seen it happen. Then again, this was the Hunger Games. Anything was possible._

_I stepped into the tube, and instantly, a panel slid over the space I had just walked through, blocking the entrance. I had never been claustrophobic before, but suddenly, I felt like I couldn't breathe. I struggled to contain my emotions as the platform underneath me began to rise._

_Blinding light. That's all I can see. White, everywhere in my field of vision. Then it begins to fade, and I take in my surroundings. The Cornucopia is in front of me, but I'm facing the tail, not the mouth. I have no idea what it contains, only that it contains survival items. I see Ash, the boy from my district. He's across the circle of tributes from me, slightly to the right of the mouth of the Cornucopia. The girl from District Seven is next to me on my right, and the boy from Ten on my left. It's grassy, but there isn't much cover. I see trees in the distance and glance over my shoulder. There are trees behind me, too, but it will be a long run through open terrain. _

_I'm just scared. But I must not allow my fear to paralyze me. If I can manage that, I just might survive past today._

"_Ladies and gentlemen, let the Fifty-Ninth Hunger Games begin!" Claudius Templesmith announces. The clock starts._

_Sixty seconds. We have to stay here for sixty seconds. To go early is to die. _

_Fifty-seven…fifty-six…fifty-five…I count with the clock. I'll stay as long as I have to, but I don't want to waste a second. I want to get the hell out of here._

_Thirty-eight…thirty-seven…and then it happens. It was almost in slow motion. The girl next to me had a small, wooden ball, a token from her district. It slipped from her pocket, and it seemed to take hours to fall. She reached for it, scrambling to get her hands back on it, but she couldn't. I heard it clatter on the metal platform and saw it roll off._

_BOOM!_

_I shielded my ears and crouched on my own platform, careful not to trigger the explosives around me. I felt soft chunks hit my clothes, and I tried not to think about what it was. The tribute to her right and I were both covered in blood, and several of us were staring at the now empty platform. _

_It was real._

_I had seen the first tribute fall._

_All I could hear was my own breath. When I looked up, I realized there was a frenzy of movement. I could hear screams as I was jarred out of my trance. I missed the gong, and some of the tributes had found weapons. I couldn't think about anything but my own fear, so I did what any rational person would have done. I ran as far away from the fighting as I could. My legs pumped under me as I tore through the field, closer to the cover of the trees. I ran and ran. I ran until my legs screamed for mercy and my lungs threatened to collapse. I breached the tree line and kept going. I knew I should slow down to conserve water, but I was too damned scared. So, I kept going._

_And then I saw it, deep in the trees…the mouth to a cave. It loomed in front of me. I paused, thinking of what kind of creature could be lurking about, but my thirst overpowered me. I knew that where there were caves, there was water. And, as long as I could stay concealed in the dark, I could stay alive._

This must be the Capitol's idea of a cruel joke, or possibly a reminder to us that we would never fully escape the Games. I reminded myself that this tube only led to the stage, not to another terror-filled arena. There were no explosives, no weapons. Only a crowd of people thirsty for entertainment.

I stepped into the tube, and the same panel slid behind me again. I stood straight, with my head high, dignified, poised. The platform started to rise.

"And from District Four, Panem's Sweethearts, Finnick Odair and Arista Waters!" the announcer said dramatically. The platform locked into place, and I gracefully crossed the stage. Finnick mirrored my movements in a beautiful choreographed dance that was almost second nature. I extended my hand to him, which he took and kissed the back of. Then, together we faced the crowd, raising our joined hands in the spirit of district unity. The audience went wild.

If only they knew. If only they knew that we were all planning to stab each other in the back.

We exited to the right, joining a line of mentors. I waited and watched as the mentors from Districts Five through Twelve were announced, each of them rising from some other hole in the stage. When the line was complete, we stepped forward in a single, unified line and took our bows. We weren't bowing for these Games, but for all of the ones before…and for our own. Somewhere, some announcer was oohing and ahhing over all of the extravagant clothes that clung to our bodies, commenting on how young or old we looked, critiquing everything about our physical appearance. And, as always, Finnick and I were sure to be dubbed the "most attractive pair."

But I didn't care about any of that. No, my job was to get Coral prepared. I had to make sure that Panem fell in love with her tonight, because this was her last chance. Tomorrow would be too late. She would be in the arena by this time tomorrow.

And I still had to figure out how to get Peeta into our alliance.

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	21. Chapter 21

_**I figured you all deserved a special treat…two chapters in one day! Once again, thanks for your understanding while I took my little hiatus, and I promise to update on a more frequent basis. **_

**Chapter 21**

"Coral," I said, the minute I had stepped over the threshold of the dressing room. The tributes had arrived while we were on stage. She was beautiful dressed in white with the hint of pink, reminding me of a pearl. And knowing Lena, that was probably the idea. Her hair was adorned with pearls and her jewelry was pearl, too. She looked…almost virginal. "In here, now," I said, ushering her towards the changing room.

"What? What's going on?" she asked.

"Finnick and I were just announce as 'Panem's Sweethearts.' They've never done that before, but I can guarantee the other mentors will have noticed it. It's a sign that the Gamemakers are pushing for a victor from Four this year," I told her.

"Wait a sec…you mean the victors are…_pre-selected_?" she asked in shock.

"No. They can't control everything that goes on in the arena, but we discussed this earlier. They can take out tributes pretty much at will to ensure that someone likable wins," I explained.

"So, you being one of 'Panem's Sweethearts' is a good thing…right?" she asked confused.

"Yes and no. It means that so far, the Gamemakers like you, and you're one of their favorites to win. But, it also means that you just became bigger competition," I told her.

"Ok, so what do you want me to do?" she asked. There was an urgent knock on the door.

"Arista! We need Coral in the green room," Chase yelled through the door. I scowled.

"Two minutes!" I yelled.

"Now!" he replied. I turned back to Coral.

"Just be another sweetheart. Make them love you, and all of Four," I said quickly. Chase barged in through the door.

"Coral, now," he said. I watched as he took her away, and then I joined Finnick in the sitting area of the dressing room to watch the interviews. Glimmer and Marvel charmed the audience in a manner traditional to District One. Cato and Clove came off as tough and battle-ready, sure to win them more sponsors. The two kids from District Three were more on the meek side, but not appearing terribly weak. The Coral was up. She played off Caesar Flickerman with a practices ease and likability. She charmed the audience with family togetherness stories that sounded more like my family than hers, with the doting parents and loving siblings. Only she and I seemed to know that it was all fiction. And she talked about her humble beginnings in District Four with a fondness that made even me homesick. She was the sort of girl who could make you _want_ to be her best friend, even if she was unattainable. It was that same, sugary sweet demeanor she had used on me just after the reaping. Only this time, it was working to her advantage. But she got me at the end.

"So, Coral, you were a volunteer for the Games," Caesar began.

"That's right," she said with her perfect smile.

"Tell me, why would you volunteer and risk your life in the Games?" he asked. I narrowed my eyes. She could blow it right here by saying or even eluding to the fact that she had trained her entire life for just this purpose.

"Because, Caesar, my family and my district have given me everything I could have ever dreamed of. To win would bring honor to a place and a people close to my heart. And if l lose, I gave my life so that some other girl could be spared," she said. I might have shed a tear if I had know the entire thing was a load of crap. But, that's what interviews were for: to make them love you, and it was hard not to love the girl from District Four after that.

"How incredibly noble, Coral," Caesar took her hand and together they stood. " Ladies and gentlemen, from District Four, Coral Fisher!" A smirk slid across my face. I couldn't have been happier. Hunter was sweet, but all Hunter really had to do was be himself. Finnick lucked out this year with him. I watched the rest of the interviews, but nothing particularly alarmed me…until we got to District Twelve again. Twelve was really starting to irk me.

Katniss started out awkward and basically unremarkable, but the she talked about being terrified about being burned alive, and intentional or not, she was funny. Humor could win sponsors. Now, this girl not only had an eleven training score, but she was likable. I watched as she pulled a stunt where she twirled, showing off the same flames that adorned her costume the night of the Opening Ceremonies. My eyes narrowed. I didn't like her at all. She was far too dangerous.

If that wasn't bad enough, she was followed by Peeta whose natural charisma was infectious. Well, this wasn't a total loss. If we could get him into our alliance, his charm could be exploited, but that was still a big 'if' at this point. He talked about having a crush on some girl back in District Twelve.

"So here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?" Caesar says with a knowing nod.

"I don't think it's going to work out. Winning…won't help in my case," Peeta says as a strange sadness crosses his face.

"Why ever not?" Caesar asks. Yeah, Peeta, why not? Every girl is a sucker for a good-looking victor. Peeta's face goes red on the screen.

"Because…because…she came here with me," he says. The studio is deathly silent, and so is my dressing room. Oh, we are so screwed. The audience is going to eat up a torrid romance between the tributes of District Twelve. Fuck.

"Oh, that is a piece of bad luck," Caesar says with genuine sympathy. The interview continues as my head spins. Apparently, Katniss didn't know he liked her. At least Caesar won't let them bring her back on camera for a response. Still, this is bad. The cameras are almost entirely focused on the two from District Twelve. Then the interviews are over, and I know the tributes are being taken back to their rooms in the Training Center. In the chaos, I pull Cashmere, Belladonna, Scar, and Gem aside. I only need a few minutes.

"What the hell was that?" Belladonna exclaimed.

"I know. I saw it too. This entire country is going to fall in love with those two, and we'll never even have a chance," I said.

"Any thoughts?" Gem asked.

"Yeah, actually. We still don't know how she got an eleven, or what she's hiding. Now, the boy's not a threat. He's likeable enough, but we've got him beat in skill. She's still a mystery," I said.

"So we take her down at the Cornucopia. Problem solved," Scar said.

"Well, that's Plan A," I said. "But if that fails, then what were you planning to do, Scar?"

"Arista?" Cashmere said. "What's your Plan B?"

"We bring the boy into our alliance and use him to flush her out. Then, we kill him. Simple," I said.

"You want to ally with _Twelve?_ That's absurd!" Belladonna exclaimed.

"Not ally with them exactly…just keep the boy alive long enough to kill the girl. Then, one of our tributes kills him, but respectfully," I said.

"You mean painlessly," Scar said. I nodded. "Fine, but then we're up to an alliance of eight, once you factor in the boys from Twelve and Three. That's bigger than I'm comfortable with."

"You want to bump someone?" Cashmere asked.

"You got it," Scar said. "Otherwise, Cato and I are out. So, who wants to leave the alliance?" I glanced over at the thinning crowd, and saw Finnick chatting with Haymitch. God, my best friend and my lover.

"Finnick," I said, turning back to my group.

"I beg your pardon?" Scar said.

"Finnick's out. Hunter's no good to us anyway," I said quickly before I could change my mind. Strategically, trading Hunter for Peeta was a good move, but I hated it.

"Just do me a favor…don't tell him," I said. "He'll find out soon enough." The four of them nodded. At least I had earned some respect from them. My stomach was in knots. I had just betrayed the one person I could count on back home to understand exactly what I was going through. My head knew it was the smart thing to do, but my heart didn't understand that.

Oh, God, what had I done?

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	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

"Haymitch!" I call as I see him turn away from Finnick and head towards the exit with the delegation from District Twelve. He turns to me, but I know he doesn't have much time, and there are far too many ears around for me to clearly communicate what I needed to. So I do the best I can, hoping he can somehow read my mind. I nod, quickly, but definitively. He nods back, and I see his mouth form two words – thank you. And then he's gone.

But then there's Finnick, who has witnessed the entire exchange, and Finnick knows me well enough to know something big has just gone down under his nose.

"What was that all about?" Finnick asked, taking my arm and steering me down the corridor.

"He asked me for help with a sponsor, that's all," I lied.

"A sponsor? Really? Arista, you never give up sponsors. Now, what gives?" he pressed.

"He's a friend, and he actually has tributes that stand a chance at making it past day one this year," I said, trying whatever I could to wiggle out of this. Finnick spun me so we were face to face, his eyes searching my face for non-verbal clues.

"Exactly. His tributes are real competition this year. So, the question remains: why are you helping the competition?" Finnick asked, staring me down.

"I'll tell you, but not here. Come on," I said, pulling him into an empty room. I closed the door as my mind raced. Do I tell him the truth, or do I come up with some other lie? I couldn't tell Finnick I had betrayed him, not yet. I still needed him for moral support, if nothing else.

"I'm sleeping with him," I told Finnick bluntly.

"You're…_what?_" he asked, incredulously. I rolled my eyes. He ran a hand through his hair as he processed the information.

"You can't tell anyone. I don't even want to think what they could do to him, to me, or even to my family if they found out," I told him. I was taking a huge risk, but I also knew Finnick well enough to know that, no matter how pissed off he was at me, he would keep my secrets. To betray me with something like this would put Annie directly in the line of fire, and he simply couldn't do that to her.

"So, you're working with Twelve," he said. "Thanks, Arista." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"I'm not working with Twelve." Another lie. "Haymitch is exactly the reason I _won't_ work with Twelve. I don't care who hates me, as long as it isn't him." Tears welled in my eyes, and I dabbed them quickly. I wasn't sure if the emotion was coming from my love for Haymitch or my guilt from betraying Finnick, but it didn't matter.

"How long have the two of you…" Finnick trailed off.

"Since the Sixty-Fifth Games. Right after you killed Laurel," I said, steeling my voice.

"Laurel?" His eyes darted as he processed the events from his own Games. "She was the girl from Four…and she would have been…" He looked directly at me again. I could see him travel back mentally nine years, to a time he avoided at all costs.

"My tribute," I said softly. "I was the other mentor during your Games, remember? That year, we left Four with Mags, Laurel, you, and me. Laurel was the only one who didn't come home." I licked my lips slowly as I gathered my thoughts. "I went to the roof of the Training Center the night she died, and Haymitch came looking for me. He knew I'd already be blaming myself for her death. Everything changed that night. So, now I see him once a year, during the Games, in secret, but one thing is clear. I'd rather have _any_ kind of relationship with him than none at all."

"I know exactly how you feel," he said. The look in his eyes said it all. I knew he was thinking of Annie, and realizing that I felt the same way about Haymitch. Finnick turned his gaze from me to the door.

"We need to get out of here. They'll miss us soon," he said. I nodded, and silently, we made our way back to the Training Center. Finnick trusted me, for now.

Coral and Hunter were waiting for us as we stepped off the elevator with Chase. They were still dressed in their interview attire and chattering about their opponents. I needed to get to Coral before she told him too much.

"Hey!" I said, flashing my show-stopping smile. "Why don't you two go change into something more comfortable, and then we can have dinner?" Hunter scampered towards his room, but Coral hesitated. "Go on, Coral. You too," I told her as I pulled off the five inch heels from my protesting feet. She, too, disappeared.

"You two were truly sensational tonight. 'Panem's Sweethearts!' I love it!" Chase exclaimed.

"I don't know, Chase. I'd be a bit more worried about…what was it we heard in the hallways? The 'star-crossed lovers from district twelve?'" I said, probing Finnick.

"Yeah, that was a bit…much," he said. "We're just mentors. They have a tribute love story going on."

"No worries. I can work with this. Coral and Hunter are still among the tributes favored to win," Chase said in a happy tone that just sounded fake to me. God, that man got on my nerves. He may have meant well, but he just didn't get it.

"I think I'm going to take my own advice and change into something that weighs less than Finnick," I said lightly, referring to the insane weight of my dress which was bearing down on every inch of my body. I closed the door of my room and leaned against it, sighing. I glanced at my bed, and the folded set of clothes brought the realness of the Games on me like a ton of bricks. The clothes were simple – a pair of denim slacks, a cotton shirt, and my folded lanyard topped the pile, prominently displaying my identification. It wasn't the clothes themselves that stirred my emotional center; it was that this was *the* outfit. I would don these clothes tonight, and wear them throughout the Games. Granted, replacements could be delivered at any time, but this was a uniform of sorts.

I shed the ridiculous – though stunning – gown from my body, carefully replacing it on the hanger so as not to incur Lena's wrath. The horrid bra that made my chest look perfect, but poked and prodded in place it shouldn't went next, to be immediately replaced by a softer, more comfortable one. I tossed the badge aside and picked up the shirt. The official logo of this year's games covered the back, and my name and district adorned the front on the left side. From where it was positioned on the shirt, I guessed that it would lay just over my left breast. I slipped it over my body, and as usual, the fit was perfect. The pants came next. They were comfortable, but again, the fit was impeccable. I pulled my hair from the elaborate confines Pela had wrapped it into and brushed it until it once again shone in its natural state. Then I swept it back and fastened it with a simple band. Only one thing remained – I picked up the dolphin necklace I had worn in my own Games as my token and fastened the clasp behind my neck, and then I checked the mirror. Yes, the look was right. I looked ready for business, but the photographs and footage would still appear flawless.

Fortunately, we got to choose our own shoes. Given that it was the hottest part of the summer, I selected a pair of strappy sandals – without heels – and fastened them around my perfectly pedicured feet. Then I moved to my desk and picked up the notes and plans I had made over the past week, folding them carefully and shoving them into my back pocket. My book of Hunger Games statistics was still on my desk, and I realized I had never looked at my own entry. I flipped to the Ws and found the entry labeled "Waters, Arista." My fingers ran over the black print as if trying to draw some sort of connection to the people these names represented. Tributes I had mentored and lost, tributes I killed. And then something struck me…a name, listed under kills I earned credit for. Janey Branch. For some reason, I thought that she was from District Seven, but no, she was listed as being from District Six. And then I remembered…the girl from Seven died before the gong sounded, so Janey couldn't be from Seven. Why was this bothering me? Did it matter what district she was from? She was long dead now, but it was important to me. She had been someone's daughter, perhaps someone's sister, and it bothered me that she wasn't important enough to me to remember where she came from.

I closed the book, reverently. More names would be added next year, entries altered. Hunter and Coral would be in there, somewhere, along with the twenty-two other tributes from the other eleven districts. My stats would change slightly, as they did every year.

I needed to stop this. I needed to shove my emotions back to that place where they couldn't hurt me and get my head in the game. I had one more evening with Coral, and then I would say good-bye. With any luck, I'd see her again.

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	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

I headed towards the dining area with my badge in my right hand. I wouldn't be returning to this room any time soon. Tonight, Finnick and I would be taken to Games Headquarters, where we would remain until after the Games started.

Dinner was a full house tonight. Both prep teams joined us, and dinner was even grander than usual. The soup course alone consisted of twelve different soups, probably one from each district, ranging from the lightest vegetable soup to thick and hearty chowders. I selected my favorite seafood chowder, which I knew was supplied with fish from District Four. This was all part of my pre-Games ritual. Just as I had donned each piece of clothing reverently, inspecting every inch, my diet tonight would consist solely of District Four food. It was my way of mentally preparing myself for what was to come. It was easy to become jaded in the Capitol, to become distracted by the other mentors and luxuries of the Capitol. I need this. I needed the reminder of exactly who I was and where I came from.

"Hey guys, make sure you eat well tonight. You will have an opportunity for breakfast tomorrow, but you never know how your nerves will affect you. And if there's something special you want, ask for it," I told the tributes. I really wanted Hunter to enjoy what little luxuries he could at this point, even if it was just a special meal. He'd probably be dead by this time tomorrow. Of course, I was the only one at the table who knew that, and it still pained me.

"Finnick, can you pass the bread?" I asked, pointing to the basket next to him. Even the bread had variety to it. Twelve more kinds, but I wanted the salty, moist rolls traditional to District Four. Coral seemed to be sampling everything on the table, while Hunter was just eating whatever he could reach. Good. I wanted her to at least have a taste of everything.

The main course arrived shortly after. Steak, chicken, lobster, filets of salmon, halibut, tuna...protein upon protein upon protein. Still, I stuck to whatever originated in the sea and the root vegetables we could grow in our gardens. I was done with the lavishness of the Capitol this year. The mood at the table should have been light-hearted and fun, and it would have been on any other night. But instead, there was a stony silence to it. Everything that needed to be said had been said, and now we were left with small talk. I complimented the stylists on their work for the interviews. Our tributes really did look amazing tonight. It almost made up for the ridiculousness of their Opening Ceremonies costumes.

After dinner, we piled plates with desserts and settled in the sitting room to watch the recap of the interviews. There was nothing left to be done. Alliances were made, deals were signed. Once again, Coral's interview impressed me, but so did the clever girl from Five, little Rue from Eleven, and of course, Twelve. The tributes saw just how much camera time Twelve got, and they heard them dubbed the "star-crossed lovers from District Twelve."

"Should we be worried about that?" Coral asked as the anthem played. "They got a lot of camera time on the Opening Ceremonies, too."

"No," I lied. "Don't worry about it. Just stick to our plan, and you'll be fine." Chase glanced at the clock.

"Arista, Finnick…" he began. I knew what he wanted. It was time for us to go.

"Coral, I need you for a minute," I told her, pulling her off to a corner of the room where we couldn't be heard. "There's been a last minute change in plans. Hunter's out of the alliance," I hissed in her ear.

"_What?"_ she asked, in total shock.

"I don't have time to go into it, but he's out. Peeta, the boy from Twelve is in. You can use him to flush out the girl from Twelve," I explained to her. She looked at Hunter horrified.

"I don't want to kill him," she whispered.

"Then don't," I said simply. "Let Cato do it, or someone else. Just make sure he doesn't suffer too much." Coral nodded slowly.

"I feel like I'm betraying him," she said.

"You honor him by making sure he dies quickly and painlessly." My eyes met hers. By this point, I knew she trusted me implicitly, and that was exactly what I needed. "Just stick to the plan. You have an alliance with One, Two, the boy from Three, and Peeta. Then it breaks down to you, Glimmer, and Clove. Final two is you and Glimmer. Whatever you do, don't completely trust them, though. Watch your back, and if you have to go alone, go. I'll take care of you." Coral nodded again.

"I'll be able to see and hear you when you're in the arena. I can't fight it for you, but you aren't alone. Remember that," I told her. We looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity.

"Come here," I said, pulling her into my arms. I wanted to keep her there, protected. I felt her squeeze my waist. And to think, a week ago she was an arrogant volunteer. Her saving grace was that she had found her fear, and that she was able to listen.

"Thank you," she said into my shirt. It was time to let her go.

"You're welcome," I said. "No matter what happens in there, I'm proud of you."

"Thanks," she said softly. I hugged her again.

"See you in a couple of weeks," I said. Coral nodded. Finnick was done with Hunter, who was being fussed over by his prep team. Coral's team was waiting to say their good-byes, and Chase was waiting for me. Pela, Lima, and Una fussed over Coral, but I pulled Lena aside.

"Lena, do me a favor, will you?" I asked.

"Anything," she said. I pulled the dolphin necklace off and handed it to Lena, closing her hand around it.

"This was my token in the Games. Make sure she gets it in the arena, and tell her who it's from," I said. Lena nodded. If Coral didn't make it, I'd get the necklace back. Tokens are always delivered to the mentors so that they can be given to the fallen tributes' families. If she won, I knew she'd give it back to me herself.

Finnick and I exited the Training Center, arm in arm, stopping to pose for the various flashing cameras. We climbed into the District Four car and were immediately escorted to Games Headquarters. Exiting the car was like exiting the train. Throngs of people had gathered, asking for autographs, snapping pictures. The mentors were all arriving and flocking into the building as a unified front. It was all just one big show.

I made my way to our designated sign-in table to collect my headset. The other mentors were doing pretty much the same thing. A few gathered for idle chit chat, but mostly, we were focused on our own tasks. We weren't friends anymore; we were opponents. Trust was sketchy at best. Personal feelings were checked at the door.

"Welcome, Ms. Waters. Here you are. Try not to break it this year, hm?" the attendant said with a smile. It was fairly common knowledge that I had a nasty habit of hurtling my headset against the nearest wall when my tribute died.

"I make no promises," I replied, taking the device and clipping it to my slacks. The pre-production took several hours, which is why we were brought in so early. Each headset had to be checked to ensure that it connected to the proper areas. New mentors had to be trained in out to call for supplies. A film crew was doing a behind-the-scenes show and pulled us aside randomly for interviews. I never revealed my strategy. I just told them what they wanted to hear – that my tribute was going to win, and I was excited to be a vital part of the Games. Dawn broke, and we nibbled on breakfast pastries provided by the Capitol. I had my eighth cup of coffee since arriving. By the time these Games started, I would be hopped up on caffeine and adrenaline.

Hours passed, and finally, the lights started to flicker. We proceeded into the mentor's box. Yet again, some mentors piled plates with food, while others would wait. I wasn't hungry. I never was at this point. My stomach was just one giant knot. I flopped into one of the comfortable leather armchairs next to Haymitch, the same chair I picked every year. The monitors flickered to life once again after a year of darkness. A still image of each tributes face graced the screens, one for each tribute. The larger monitor which would display the arena map currently contained the seal of the Capitol.

"Mentors, prepare for Launch in sixty…fifty-nine…fifty-eight…" The general hum in the room gradually became silent as the countdown continued. Eyes turned towards the screens. Headsets were checked a final time. The cameras turned on as the tributes rose from the tubes into the arena. Now I had full view of everything. Most of our alliance was positioned near the mouth of the Cornucopia, giving us every strategic advantage.

"Three…two…one…" the speaker counted. Then the audio switched over to the live announcement from Claudius Templesmith.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"

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	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

This is my least favorite part of the Games. The sixty seconds between the opening announcement and the gong seems to defy all logical perception of time. In one way, it seems to take hours, and yet, it also seems to pass in the blink of an eye. I scanned the other monitors quickly. Katniss appeared distracted. Good. Maybe we _could_ get her at the Cornucopia, especially if the looks she was giving Peeta were an indication that when was teaming up with him. That made me wonder just how solid my alliance was with Twelve. I had done that rather hastily, without bothering to consider all of the consequences. It wasn't a matter of trusting Haymitch; I trusted him implicitly. The sick feeling in the pit of my stomach was coming from my sudden realization that Haymitch wasn't the one I needed to trust – Peeta was. Well, it was too late to do anything about it now.

I heard the gong sound. It's immediately clear that Coral is not on the team that is gathering supplied, but instead a defender. Peeta and Synch are doing the gathering; the rest are defending. That makes sense, considering Glimmer, Marvel, Clove, Cato, and Coral all know what they're doing with weapons. Coral pulls a blow gun and a set of darts from the pile.

_Be careful,_ I thought. Years of experience had taught me that the slightest prick with one of those darts would render a tribute unconscious, if not dead. But clearly, she had studied the Games enough because she was using extreme caution as she selected the darts and loaded them. She brought the blow gun to her mouth and an instant later, the District Five boy's monitor went dark.

"What the…?" I heard one of the District Five mentor exclaim. I raised my eyebrow in approval and turned back towards my own monitor as a sly grin slid across my face. As more and more tributes fell or were wounded, the noise level in the Box picked up with mentor's clamoring into their headsets, ordering supplies into the arena. Coral proceeded to pick off the boy from Six and the girl from Seven before I shifted my attention to Clove's monitor caught my eye. She had just impaled the boy from Nine with a throwing knife, and she had a clear shot of Katniss.

_Get her,_ I thought. _Take her down, right here, right now._

Clove pulled back her arm and the blade glinted in the sun. Haymitch shifted in his seat next to me. She released, and Haymitch grabbed my hand, squeezing it. He really did care about this one. But then Clove's knife imbedded in Katniss's backpack, and she was too quick to get another good shot off. Clove retreated back to the Cornucopia and let Katniss off the hook this time. Next to me, Haymitch let out a breath I hadn't realized he had been holding and dropped my hand. I glanced at Haymitch. I wanted to say something or do something, but I couldn't. The survival of this girl he cared about meant the death of the one I wanted to bring home. And, of course, I didn't want anyone to think there was anything more to our relationship than a strong friendship. So, I said nothing.

I turned my attention towards Hunter's monitor. He had climbed into the Cornucopia behind a pile of supplied, and it was obvious he was terrified. Cato's large form was on a different monitor, doing a methodical search of the Cornucopia. I figured Scar would have his own tribute take Hunter out. I couldn't worry about that…Coral needed my attention. The boy from Eight was coming up on her back.

_Turn around, _I willed. _Damn it, Coral, TURN AROUND!_ She was going to die. She was going to die right here at the Cornucopia. And then she turned, lightning fast, thrusting him in the gut with a sword before he could lay a hand on her.

Meanwhile, Cato had found the Hunter. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but the sword in Cato's right hand was bloody, and Hunter's dot on the map still indicated he was alive. The screams were dying down. The tributes had either fallen or fled. Hunter was clearly suffering. I looked back at Coral. She was finally free to pay attention to something other than her own personal safety. She looked inside the Cornucopia, saw Cato standing over a body, and raced to his side. As soon as she was close enough to identify the form, she pulled out the blow gun and shot a dart straight into his temple.

"What did you do that for?" Cato said, whirling around towards her. She held her ground.

"I promised I wouldn't let him suffer," she said, and I knew she was talking to me. At the same time, I felt Finnick's eyes on me. It was almost like an icy wind was coming directly from them. I folded my hands in my lap and stayed as still as I could.

"Will the following mentors please report to the green room…" the announcer's voice said in the Mentor's Box. Mentors of fallen tributes would exit through the door on the right, which opened into a prep area for another studio. One by one, they would be interviewed by Caesar Flickerman. There was a second exit in the back of the room that we could use privately, but the interview was required.

"You knew," Finnick hissed at me. I said nothing. I couldn't face him, not yet. "We'll discuss this later," he said, storming off to the green room. The eleven mentors of the eleven tributes killed in the bloodbath filed out, and suddenly, the Box started to feel empty. I felt a hand clasp on my shoulder.

"Nice work," Scar said from behind me. I swallowed the conflicting emotions that were rising in me and forced myself into stoicism again.

"Thanks," I said. There was nothing else I could do, nothing left to say. Hunter was dead, but Coral was still alive. I didn't want to confront Finnick ever, but I knew it would come eventually. For now, I just had to do my job.

Katniss was still a threat to me, as she had succeeded in evading the initial bloodbath. I periodically checked her monitor and saw that she was traveling, far away from my alliance. On my monitor, I could see that Glimmer, Marvel, Coral, Cato, and Peeta were in the process of securing what was left of the Cornucopia supplies. They had managed quite a haul in weapons, food, and camping gear. Meanwhile, Coral was supervising as Synch dug up the explosives, taking his time, most likely to ensure that he didn't blow himself to kingdom come. A scan of the monitors showed that all of the other tributes were running scared, like Katniss. Now was a good time to eat.

I left my chair and headed for the buffet. I didn't want much, but I knew I needed to eat. Lack of food would bring on sleepiness, and I couldn't help Coral if I was asleep. I fixed myself a plate of seafood stew over a bed of rice and returned to my chair, pulling out the tray from the armrest.

"You did what you had to do," Haymitch whispered to me.

"Then why do I feel so lousy about it?" I snapped back between bites. I barely tasted the food, though I'm sure it was wonderful. I choked it down, knowing that I would need the fuel. Haymitch never answered my question, probably because too many eyes were on us. It was twilight in the arena. The Careers had set up a decent camp, securing their bounty with the explosives. I took my now empty plate to the recycling bin and returned to my seat.

"Did you get any sponsors this year?" I whispered to Haymitch. I didn't care who overheard us. Many of the mentors also sat in whispered conversations, renegotiating deals now that the initial bloodbath was over.

"I tried, Arista," he said. He looked tired and defeated.

"You didn't, did you?" I asked.

"No one wants to bet on Twelve. We hardly ever even make it out of the gate," he said glumly.

"Oh, Haymitch…" was all I could say. I looked back at his monitors, both still bright. Two tributes, very much alive close to the end of Day One. Peeta was with the Careers, and Katniss was making herself comfortable in a tree. I needed to get a message into the arena. They would start hunting soon. I clicked the button on my headset.

"This is Arista Waters of District Four," I said.

"_Deployment Center, go ahead,"_ a mechanical female voice responded.

"Deploy seven liters of water to Coral Fisher," I ordered.

"_You have six liters of water available,"_ the voice replied.

"Deploy the six liters and transfer funds from my account for the seventh," I clarified.

"_Acknowledged. Deployment will occur in three minutes. Would you care to add a message?" _the voice asked. I stood up and walked over to a terminal where I could input a message. In this manner, I could say whatever I wanted – as long as I didn't disclose any Games secrets – without fear of being overheard.

"Transmit the following message," I commanded.

_Eyes up. –A._

_**Hey guys…I know I have some readers out there. Tell me what you think!**_

_**Love it? Hate it? Review it!**_


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

I watched as the silver parachute floated towards Coral, and she opened its pouch to reveal the contents. She read the tiny slip of paper and quickly shoved it into her pocket without sharing the contents of the message with her fellow tributes. Good. That message was for her – and only her. She carefully counted the bottles of water and quickly made the connection between the number of bottles and her alliance.

"Hey, guys!" she yelled, and when she had their attention, she tossed each of them a bottle of water. "Courtesy of District Four," she added as she cracked into her own bottle.

"How do you know it's from Four?" Clove asked. Coral shrugged.

"We have a saying back home. 'Water is life.' A gift of water from Four means that they like us, and they want to see one of us survive," she explained. The anthem started to play, and the familiar screen hovered in the sky. The alliance paused for a moment to watch.

"No!" Synch wailed as the face of the female tribute from Three graced the sky.

"Don't be a baby. Most of us in here will die; get used to it," Glimmer said callously. I cringed in my seat. She was right, but I knew from experience that the night you see your District partner's face in the sky was the roughest. Like Synch, it had happened on my first night, too. Her face was followed by Hunter's. I hated seeing that one because, once again, I felt responsible for his death. Coral bit her lip. I knew she had grown attached to him too, but she was smart enough to keep her mouth shut. Hunter's image was followed by the boy from Five, both tributes from Six, both from Seven, the boy from Eight that Coral had taken down, both from Nine, and the girl from Ten.

"Looks like Club Foot made it," Glimmer stated. "He shouldn't be too hard to take care of."

"We should start hunting," Cato said, taking command of the group. He pulled several torches from the supplies, tossing one to each tribute around him. They each prepped a pack of food, water, and weapons, and lit their torches from the campfire.

"Synch, stay here and guard the loot," Cato told him. "If anything happens to it, there's a wooden box with your name on it."

"But what if…" Synch started. Cato drew his sword and held it to Synch.

"Your Games can end now, if you prefer," Cato said. Synch swallowed hard.

"I'm good. You guys be careful out there," he said. Cato replied by sheathing his sword, but I caught the look on his face before he turned back to the group.

"We'll do a systematic sweep of the arena, taking out whoever we happen to run into. Our primary goal is to take out Thresh and Katniss before they can do too much damage to us, understood?" he said. The rest of the alliance nodded.

The group worked their way through the woods. I kept an eye on Synch, stationed alone with the loot by the lake.

"Qwerty," I hissed.

"Yeah?" she said, without pulling her eyes away from the monitor.

"They left him totally out in the open, with a blazing fire," I told her.

"It's the Career camp. Everyone in there knows that going in there is suicide," she told me. I shook my head. If Coral was the one there by herself, I would be a wreck by now, trying to come up with some sort of way to help her.

"And what if another tribute decides to risk it and marches in there? He's defenseless," I said.

"What do you want me to do?" she hissed at me, finally pulling her eyes away from the screen.

"He's unarmed. You figure it out," I snapped back.

"Not all of us have the money Four does," she rebutted. Oh. She couldn't afford to send him anything. I considered using my own reserves to at least let Qwerty arm him, but quickly decided against it. It was one thing to cooperate with the enemy, but it wouldn't help Coral, so I let it go. I wasn't sure if I could live with the guilt if the same weapon I bought and sent into the hands of another tribute was the one that killed Coral.

_Snap!_ A sound broke through the relative quiet on the screens. I scanned the bank of monitors in front of me. _ Snap!_

The girl from Eight was bent over a well constructed fire, trying to get it going. I covered my face with my hand. This was going to be too easy…

When the sounds began, Coral shushed her group and listened closely. They waited until smoke wafted through the trees and used it as a homing device, leading them straight to the lone girl's camp. The girl from Eight giggled gleefully as the warmth penetrated her body. I watched as the girl from Eight made herself comfortable by the fire. The dots on the map showed that the Career alliance was fairly far away from her, but when you're walking towards a light in the middle of the night, it doesn't matter how long it takes. She curled up next to the fire, and eventually, began to doze.

It took a while, but I could see the glimmer of the flames on Coral's monitor, indicating she was close. I glanced around for the mentor from Eight, only to discover that she, too, had opted for rest. She was sound asleep on one of the cots in the back of the Mentor's Box, that existed specifically for that purpose. I guess she was operating alone this year, because no one bothered to wake her.

The Career alliance broke out into a run, with Cato taking the early lead. He pounces on her before she wakes. Suddenly, she's awake to a blood-thirsty Cato, who has been itching for a kill all night long.

"No! Please, don't!" she pleads. "Please don't kill me! I'm not ready to die!" I hate when they toy with them.

_Just do it, Cato. Put her out of her misery,_ I think to myself. What I really want is to turn away, but I can't. I know the girl is going to die, and I don't want to watch it, yet, I can't turn away either.

"You should have thought of that before you were stupid enough to light a fire," Cato says before thrusting a sword into her gut. The rest of the pack with him cheers and they congratulate each other on their first kill since the Cornucopia.

"Twelve down and eleven to go!" Coral cries out, to which everyone else cheers. I want to vomit. They root through the girls supplies, finding nothing of interest. All she had on her were some matches and the clothes assigned to her.

"Better clear out so they can get the body before it starts stinking," Cato says. They all reluctantly agree and continue on their hunt. I look at the dots on the map again. They're practically on top of Katniss strapped into a tree. I hold my breath, hoping my message to Coral was clear enough. I can see from here that Katniss herself is practically defenseless. Suddenly, Coral stops them.

"Shouldn't we have heard a cannon by now?" she asks.

"I'd say yes,. Nothing to prevent them from going in immediately," Marvel replies.

"Unless she isn't dead," Coral counters.

"She's dead. I stuck her myself," Cato says, throwing it off as if Coral's just said something idiotic.

"Then where's the cannon?" Coral argues back.

"Someone should go back. Make sure the job's done," Glimmer chimes in.

"Yeah, we don't want to have to track her down twice," Clove adds.

"I said she's dead!" Cato snaps. The argument escalates quickly.

"Whoa!" Peeta says, throwing himself in the middle and calming the group down. "We're wasting time! I'll go finish her and let's move on!"

"Go on, then, Lover Boy," Cato tells him. "See for yourself."

"So, what's her secret, Haymitch? How'd she get an eleven?" I asked, leaning over to Haymitch. His lips narrowed into a thin line and he shook his head.

"No," he said softly.

"Oh, come on, it's over. They're in the arena. What harm could possibly come from telling me what her secret is?" I asked.

"I can't risk it. When she's ready to show what she's got, then you'll know," he said. Damn. I hated when he got like this. He was so distant during the Games. Then again, I suppose I probably was, too. I heard a cannon go off, and I figured Peeta must have done away with the girl from Eight. Yep, her monitor was dark now.

"_Cecelia Weaver, please report to the green room,_" the announcer said. I stopped my conversation to glance back at Cecelia. She seemed out of it, so I went back to help her wake up.

"Come on, Cecelia," I said, leaning over her. "You fell asleep. They need you in the green room."

"Whaaa…but, I just laid down for a minute…" she stammered.

"Your tribute's out. They need you to do your interview," I said. She looked from me to the monitors. Her jaw slid open as she realized she had fallen asleep instead of watching her tribute.

"How…?" she tried.

"The Careers. Now come on, up you go," I said, helping her to her feet. "You'll see it on the replay outside."

"_Cecelia Weaver, please report to the green room,"_ the announcer said again. Cecelia splashed water on her face to wipe the sleep from her eyes before disappearing for her interview. I tried to stifle a yawn, and failed. We had been cooped up in the wretched room for well over a day, and I still hadn't slept.

Sleeping wasn't an option. It never was. Not here.

I stepped out of the private entrance in the back of the room where an Avox was standing, waiting for instructions from any of the mentors who might require something.

"Excuse me, could you have a stimulant sent up here? The good stuff, not the crap that wears off in two hours," I said. The Avox nodded and disappeared. I kept an ear on the monitors, listening for any sign of distress. The Avox soon reappeared with a tablet and a glass of water.

"Thank you," I said, swallowing the pill. The effect was almost instantaneous. The fatigue slipped from my body as I resumed my vigil over Coral.

Twelve down, eleven to go.


	26. Chapter 26

_**I haven't abandoned this story, I promise! My life has been hectic lately, and my writing has unfortunately had to take a back seat. I've had a myriad of projects from the job that pays me (as opposed to writing, which is fun, but doesn't pay), as well has a number of personal issues at home. The good news is that my good friend, who has been writing Qwerty's story, moved back to town, and now she's around to kick me to keep updating.**_

**Chapter 26**

Day Four. I was hopped up on stimulants – both pills and coffee, sugar, and tea. Anything to stay awake. My eyelids felt heavy, but the drugs were making me too jittery to sleep even if I wanted to. Haymitch had grabbed a couple of cat naps, as had the other Career mentors, but I was too damn paranoid to trust anyone else to keep an eye on my tribute for me. So I would sit here, awake and drugged, for as long as it took.

The Careers were getting antsy. Having picked off the weak and those who made dumb mistakes, they were left with an arena full of tributes who were at least smart enough to stay hidden. Other tributes had spent their time traipsing through the woods, searching for vitally necessary water or food, but the Careers were so well stocked, they might as well have been on a camping trip. I knew something was going to happen soon. The Gamemakers never let the Games stay boring for long. Daylight is just about to break in the arena when I saw it, not on my own monitor, but on Haymitch's – a carefully constructed deadly wall of fire.

And he had seen it too.

Suddenly, Katniss had gone from sound asleep to awake. She fumbled with the belt, but quickly had it released and fell to the ground, tangled in her sleeping bag. Perhaps the Gamemakers shared my opinion of her and wanted her gone, too. It was known to happen if a tribute looked like they would be a clear winner. The Gamemakers would take out the obvious contender to alter the course of the Games into more of a struggle. Katniss hastily swept up her meager belongings and took off, exactly the same mentality I had when I fled from the cave during my Games. Keep what you have, because it could save your life.

I can see her struggling as she runs for her life. I'm sure that out in the gambling centers, they're taking bets on what will kill her first, the fire or the smoke. Haymitch stands up, heads to the food table, and pours himself a glass of water. He won't even look at the monitor anymore because he knows the inevitable is about to happen. I don't even have to ask him why he isn't more invested in this. He doesn't want to watch her die. And so he stands off to the side of the room, sipping on that damn glass of water while I watch his monitor. Her jacket catches on fire and she rips it from her body. I would expect a tribute to abandon a scorched scrap of fabric, but not this one. She shoves it in the sleeping bag and continues on. She gasps. Clearly the smoke and the heat are affecting her ability to breathe.

_This is it,_ I think. _Coral's path to victory clears up right here._

Katniss finds a stone overhang to take refuge under, and I see her vomit the contents of her stomach. She gasps for a few minutes before her entire body is wracked with coughing, still retching even though there's nothing left in her body to expel. She cautiously takes a few mouthfuls of water from her supply, stuffs her stuff hastily in the backpack and tries to find her way again when the fireballs start. The first one hits a rock near her head. A second fireball is launched and she hits the ground. The Gamemakers are really going hard for her because it's obvious from my point of view that she's the only tribute fighting this fiery battle. She takes off, dodging the tiny, but powerful fireballs. Mere minutes later, she stops, anticipating the next attack, but it doesn't come right away. Her hair has been singed off, and she pauses to check the damage. Off guard, another fireball is launched skids across her right calf. She's on the ground, scurrying, trying to stay out of harm's way and extinguish the flames all at the same time.

And then it's over.

She makes her way to a pool and washes her wounds. She's weakened, but still alive. She continues about her ritual of eating and making camp, only this time, she didn't climb her tree. I'm not sure if that was intentional or if she just didn't care at that point anymore. My own monitor told me that the Careers were starting their nightly hunt, and they were close enough to hear Katniss take off through when she was awakened by their steps. The arena was still smokey, and they were coughing and struggling to breath, but none of them were injured. She scurried up into a tree, and promptly found herself cornered by the Careers. Cato tries to climb the tree after her, but he's too heavy. Glimmer tries to shoot her down with the arrows and misses pathetically. Finally, at Peeta's suggestion, they agree to wait her out, and they're right. She'll have to come down at some point or starve up in that tree. They make camp and settle in for the night.

Meanwhile, Haymitch has taken his seat next to me. I want to talk to him or console him or something. He looks haggard and unkempt, but then again, I must look the same way by this point. And yet, our relationship must still be a secret. Katniss is obviously in pain. She tries to pull more of the seared fabric from the wound on her leg in order to clean it. She's doing everything she can to try to clean it, but the expression on her face is one of pure torture.

"Arista…" he says, so softly I can barely hear him.

"Help. Her," I tell him sharply.

"I can't…" he chokes. I lean in to whisper. This would be seen as acceptable, considering one of his tributes was working with mine.

"There's still time," I whisper. "She isn't dead yet, and she's smart enough to stay in that tree for at least the night." Haymitch looks at me like I've just saved his life and takes off through the back door of the Mentor's Box.

The night drags by. With most of the arena asleep, there isn't much to watch. I take the opportunity to eat. The Career mentors keep an eye on the pack, making sure they're still asleep and safe while we each take a brief power nap. I settle into my cot with Cashmere and Scar keeping watch on our little pack. I don't want to sleep, and at the same time, my body is screaming for it. I fight it, thinking that if I can lay here and pretend to sleep, I'll still look cooperative, but I won't have to trust anyone.

The next thing I'm aware of is Cashmere shaking me awake for my shift. Oops…I fell asleep. I grumble, ask the Avox for another stimulant, and position myself back in my chair. The Avox returns just as Haymitch does. I search his face for evidence of his success.

"Well?" I ask impatiently. He grinned at me and pointed to the screen. Near Katniss, I could see a glimmer of a silver parachute drifting towards her sleeping form.

"You found a sponsor," I said. I wanted to be relieved and happy for him, but every bit of help for Katniss was a hindrance for Coral.

"I can't save them both," Haymitch said softly, "but maybe I can save one." His words hung in the air between us. At best, one of us would walk away from this mess happy, but just one.

"Arista, a word?" a voice said. I turned my head and saw Scar congregating with the other mentors, so I quickly got up and joined them.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Twelve shouldn't have survived that fire," Scar said pointedly.

"It's the Hunger Games. You know as well as I do that we can't always predict the outcome," I said.

"How are you not angry about this? What, are you secretly pulling for Twelve? First you bring Peeta into the alliance, and now you're defending Katniss?" Belladonna said. I didn't like the accusatory tone she was taking with me.

"I never said that, Bella. All I'm saying is that there's nothing we can do to fix it. We can't turn the fire back on and chase her through the arena. But, what we _can_ do is wait. They've got her pinned. There's no way that she…" I gestured towards the monitors as a spoke, but it was at that moment that I actually turned to look. We were in trouble. Big trouble.

"Are those tracker jackers or regular wasps?" I asked quietly.

"It's the Hunger Games," Gem said quietly. While we were arguing, Katniss had begun a very purposeful mission to saw through a branch holding a nest of tracker jackers, and it was poised directly above Coral's head.

"Come on, Coral. Wake up!" I yelled at the screen. Of course, it was useless. She couldn't hear me. I nervously rocked my body in anticipation of what was to come. What could I do? There had to be _something._ And then I reached for my headset.

"Deployment Center," came the disembodied female voice.

"This is Arista Waters of District 4," I said hurriedly. Katniss was already three quarters of the way through the branch. "I need tracker jacker antivenom sent to Coral Fisher. Now!" I barked. I waited. I think they may have been using some sort of stalling tactic because this seemed to be taking way too long. Every second they took was one more second Katniss had to get through that branch. I could tell by her movements that she had been stung a few times.

"Deployment Center, I need that package yesterday!" I yelled again.

"Package prepped and awaiting deployment. Would you care to add a…" And then the nest fell. Tracker jackers swarmed the Careers as they scrambled. Coral was screaming, and I could see she was taking several stings. And just to add to my own horror and irritation, that damn voice stated, "Please note that deployments cannot take place in an active combat zone. Deployment orders will be carried out once the tribute has left the zone."

"Oh, come on! I ordered that before it was a combat zone!" I screamed into the headset. Coral was trying to run from the swarm, but that was the one area she was lacking in – speed. Now it was going to kill her.

"Please note that deployments cannot take place in a combat zone. Deployment orders will be carried out as soon as the tribute leaves the combat zone."

"Come on, Coral, fight it. Fight it, dammit!" I yelled. "I can't help you unless you leave!" Nearby, Cashmere was standing by stoicly as her own tribute succumbed to the same demise. Other than her ghost white appearance, she appeared as if nothing was wrong.

"Coral!" I yelled, running forward, as if being closer to the monitor would actually accomplish anything. The monitor flickered and went dark. Coral's headshot and the number 4 took the place of the live action.

It was over.

"_Cashmere Diamond and Arista Waters, please report to the green room." _

"NO!" I screamed, hurtling my headset at the wall. I took a deep breath. This was where the Games to the sickest turn of all. I just wanted to stare at my monitor because it felt like if I could will it long enough, she would come back, and everything would be fine. Cashmere slipped behind me and touched my shoulder gently.

"We'd better go," she said quietly. I blinked a few times, still not wanting to tear my eyes away.

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, we should." I crossed my arms over my chest. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't, not yet. I still had to get through this damn post interview, and if my experience had taught me anything, it was that this could be the most dangerous part of the Games of all.

_**Love it? Hate it? Review it!**_


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

The minute we exit the side door, Cashmere is pulled to the left as I'm pulled to the right. Our respective prep teams have been on standby. We looked like hell, and we knew it. The prep teams were here to pretty us up before we had to go greet the masses. I quickly pulled off my shirt and thrust my arms into the fresh one Lena had waiting for me. The denim pants still looked ok. Lena fished out my badge from the soiled shirt and gently placed it around my neck again.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, patting my shoulder. All I could do was stare at the spot on the wall directly in front of me. My eyes weren't really seeing anything; rather, my mind was replaying what I had just seen on the monitors. I knew I should want to cry, but my eyes were dry, until the moment Lena spoke. Suddenly, I could feel moisture start to build in them. I blinked quickly and widened my eyes, hoping to force the tears back into my body instead of down my cheeks.

"Stop scowling. You'll give yourself wrinkles," Lima tells me. I stopped staring at the spot on the wall directly in front of me and glared at her. She paused briefly, but continued frantically covering my face in layers upon layers of make up while Pela attacked my hair and Una buffed out my nails.

"I really wish you would _try_ to sleep. These bags under your eyes are AWFUL!" Lima said. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I could see Cashmere exiting the door into the studio. I would have a few minutes before it was my turn. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath couldn't appear to be grieving in even the slightest way out there; I had learned that lesson the hard way…

_She was 16-years-old, exactly the same age I was in the 59__th__ Hunger Games, and she was my first tribute. Her name was Marina, the same as my mother's, and she was my friend. Or at least, she had been before the Games. I didn't seem to have many friends after the Games, by my own choice, but Marina…Marina would stop by periodically to chat or drop something off or invite me to something or other that was going on. I didn't appreciate what a kind and caring heart she had until it was far too late. _

_The Games had been in progress for a grand total of three days, and the arena was an area of ruins created by the rebellion that started the Hunger Games. It was full of dilapidated buildings, some patchy areas of brush, and very little in the way of survival. Marina had found a small area of a building to hide in, and she was doing a decent job of staying out of the way. Mags was teaching me the ins and outs of being a Mentor, and by Day Three she had decided that I would be fine for a couple of hours while she went to snag some more sponsors. Her tribute had made two kills in one day, and that kind of action brings in money faster than we can spend it. The tributes were asleep, reasonably well protected, and there was no reason to believe anything interesting would happen in our little corner._

_Mags might have been right, had Marina not decided she needed a bathroom break in the middle of the night. I watched her get up, leave the small enclosure she had sought refuge in, and head for a bushy area to take care of business. She must have alerted someone because as she was fastening her pants, the boy from District One ambushed her. One minute she was unharmed, and the next, there was a twelve inch knife plunged through that good heart of hers. She never fought back; there was simply not enough time for her brain to process what was happening to her._

"_Arista Waters, please report to the green room,"_ _the same female voice had said. I looked around frantically for Mags, but she was nowhere to be found. I went out into that studio with absolutely no idea what to expect._

"_Here she is, from District Four, Arista Waters!"_ _a dramatic male voice announced. I entered the studio to applause and cheers. I knew I was supposed to take the empty chair next to Caesar Flickerman, so that's precisely what I did._

"_Welcome, Arista," he said, shaking my hand before we sat down. "Before we get to the interview, for those just tuning in, let's see a replay of what occurred in the arena moments ago." The lighting dimmed and a screen between us replayed the final moments of Marina's life. I didn't want to watch this. I knew the mentors were usually pretty chipper during their interviews from a lifetime of watching the Games, but I didn't feel anything remotely close to chipper. _

"_I don't know about you, but I don't think I'll be able to go to the bathroom without looking over my shoulder for at least a week!" Caesar joked, and again, the audience laughed._

"_Jokes? You're making jokes!?" I blurted out. I couldn't do it. I couldn't stand being their puppet anymore. "What do you know about her? Nothing! She had friends and a family back home, and a boy who was so in love with her, he wanted to marry her some day. But no. That will never happen now because of these damn Games! Let me tell you something; let me tell ALL of you something." I directed my rant towards the audience. " Those are NOT actors or holograms or mindless automatons. They are real people with real lives. She's DEAD. Do you understand that? Dead. What if that was your daughter in there who was never coming home? But I suppose that's beyond any of you because the Capitol had never had to send any of THEIR children into the arena. We may be poor in the Districts, but where I come from, love is all you have. That poor girl's mother just watched her die. Publicly. And all anyone did was laugh." When I turned back to Caesar, he was unnaturally pale. I knew I had just said several things that everyone in the Districts thought, but no one dared to say. Well there. I said it._

"_Ladies and gentlemen, Arista Waters!" Caesar said, with another dramatic gesture. I guess the interview was over now. Looking back on it, he was probably instructed to end it as quickly as possible. I left the stage and two Peacekeepers immediately grabbed me roughly._

"_Where are you taking me?" I asked. They didn't acknowledge me in any way, just dragged me, kicking and screaming to an unmarked car in the back of the building. In spite of my pleas and protests, they said nothing. They cuffed my hands behind my back and practically threw me into a car. I was taken directly to the presidential mansion – to Snow._

_He was in his office, and from the look on my face as I stood before him, flanked by the two Peacekeepers, he wasn't happy. Fear had had a chance to settle, and I realized the power he held over everything and everyone in my life. It now dawned on me that I could lose my own life, or someone I cared deeply for. _

"_That was quite the interview you gave," he said, void of emotion._

"_I'm sorry, sir. I don't know what came over me. It won't happen again," I said._

"_Oh, I know it won't," he answered. He paused to think. "Do you have an idea what kind of damage you've caused today?"_

"_I only wanted…" I began._

"_What you want doesn't matter," he said, cutting me off. "The Treaty is clear about how the Games are to be conducted. And yet, thanks to your little stunt, you've given the Districts a reason to rise up in rebellion against a Capitol that loves them and nurtures them."_

"_If you love them so much, then why do you allow the Districts to starve while you gorge yourselves?" I snapped. Snow turned to me with a look so cold I thought I might turn to ice. "I'm sorry. Please, forgive me. It's just…that was my friend that died today." Snow approached me and stroked my cheek in the gentlest manner with his right hand._

"_You are exquisite," he said softly. His eyes bore into mine. "Gentlemen, please show Ms. Waters how…'independent thinkers' are dealt with in the Capitol." Before I could say another word, the Peacekeepers grabbed my still restrained arms roughly and led me deep into the bowels of the mansion._

"_He's right. This one sure is a looker," one of them said to the other._

_That was the last coherent sentence I heard._

_In an instant, they were ripping my clothes from my body. I struggled, and felt a hard punch to my gut. I doubled over and tried to regain my stance, only to take a blow to my head. I rolled into a ball, trying to protect the most vulnerable parts of my body, and yet the blows kept coming. I lost all track of time. They beat me with their fists and anything else they could grab…a piece of wood, a pipe, pistols…it didn't matter. If I tried to protect myself, they would find a vulnerable place and strike. My head was hit more than once, and the room spun. At some point, I stopped feeling the pain. When they grew tired of beating me, I became aware of being on my back, with one of them panting over me as he held my legs painfully open. I fought hard to keep my eyes open because I was sure that if they closed, they would never open again._

_Finally, after what felt like hours or even days, I heard the door open. I was still on the floor, broken, bloody, and covered in semen._

"_Arista." It was Snow. I tried to answer him, but my head was so foggy all I could do was grunt. "Gentlemen, get this piece of District trash out of here." I was sure they were going to kill me. I was so close to death anyway, I finally allowed my eyes to close._

_When I woke, I was in the Medical Center underneath the Training Center. It was the same area they used to clean up the victors when they're pulled from the arena. _

"_Mom…" I croaked._

"_Don't try to speak, Dear," a familiar voice said. I felt a hand slip into mine, and the blurry face in front of me morphed into the familiar face of Mags. "I'm so sorry. I should have warned you, but by the time I got back they had taken you for your interview."_

"_Marina…" I breathed. Mags' face fell._

"_I know, Dear, I know. You did the best you could," she said._

"_No…I…" I began._

"_Shhhh….rest. Just rest," Mags said softly. _

After the 60th Games, I cut everyone out of my life except for a select few – my family and the other Victors. I stopped going to the District Square; I severed any meager social life I had. It was just too painful. I learned quickly that defying the Capitol was useless, and so I never tried again. There were rules, and I diligently followed them, which is why when my name was announce for the interview, I stepped through that door, gave an exaggerated "too bad" shrug, and strode over to Caesar Flickerman with a huge smile plastered on my face.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

"Welcome back, Arista. A pleasure, as always," Caesar said as he shook my hand. My outburst at the 60th Games was never spoken of again. I almost wonder if the Capitol had figured out a way to wipe the memories of everyone who had seen it. In fact, by the time it aired, it had been edited to a point where it seemed mostly harmless, although anyone in the studio got to see the unedited live performance.

"It's a pleasure to see you too, Caesar, although I had hope we wouldn't see each other at all this year," I replied good-naturedly.

"Oh? And why is that?" Caesar said, mocking offense.

"Well, if Coral had one, you'd be far more interested in her than me!" I said. More polite chuckles from the audience.

"How true that is! Now, for those of you who missed it, let's take a quick look at the fall of Coral Fisher from District Four," Caesar said. The lights dimmed, as always, and we turned, in unison towards the monitor. Music had been added and the camera was switching between Coral's sleeping form and Katniss sawing through the branch. The entire tracker jacker attack played out once more with much more drama and finesse than I had seen live. No matter what package they wrapped it in, dead was still dead. I heard the cannon fire in the distance, the screen displayed the 74th Games logo, and the studio lights came back up.

"So, tracker jackers," Caesar began.

"Tracker jackers. We were defeated by insects this year," I said.

"Now, you have a history of losing tributes to…shall we say…environmental factors," Caesar began. He was giving me a way in. I had been through so many of these, though, that he and I could banter with an odd ease.

"You know, that's the funny part. I'm pretty good at sizing up the other tributes and developing strategies to combat that," I began.

"Such as?" Caesar prodded.

"Well…Peeta!" I said with a laugh. "I might have suggested to Coral that she keep him close because he would know what Katniss was up to better than anyone else."

"Why did you single out Katniss as a threat?" Caesar asked.

"She's hiding something, and I still can't put my finger on it. There's _some_ reason she got an eleven in the training scores, and that's what tipped me off. Based on what I saw during the training periods and in the Games, Coral had a formidable skill set, but we still haven't seen Katniss fight, so I'm not sure what her secret is," I explained.

"And yet, here you are while both tributes from Twelve are still competing," Caesar said.

"I know! I'm almost embarrassed to go back to Four after that. I mean…bugs!" I exclaimed. "Deadly bugs, but still bugs, you know what I mean?"

"Let's talk about Four's performance for minute. Coral was your District's last chance. Our viewers all remember we talked to Finnick Odair on Day 1," Caesar said. I nodded attentively. "We're used to a certain camaraderie from the District Four tributes. What happened this year?" he asked. It was a fair question, but I couldn't tell him the truth. I couldn't tell him that I was in a relationship with Haymitch and that in order to save his tribute I had to sell out my best friend.

"Well Caesar, there are years where Finnick and I have such drastically different strategies that we decide not to work together. This just happened to be one of those years," I said.

"Speaking of you and Finnick, you were also dubbed 'Panem's Sweethearts' this year. Does this mean that you and Finnick are…an item?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. I looked at the audience in mock horror before turning back to Caesar.

"Absolutely not. We're both as single as they come," I said. Then I turned back to the audience. "Don't worry, ladies, he's still available!" The cheers that rose had a distinctly feminine sound.

"Well, Arista, we're just about out of time, but before you go, tell me, who do you think the Victor is going to be this year?" Caesar asked. I contemplated his question, filling the time with animated facial expressions.

"Well, Caesar, historically, Two has always done well, so I would say the safe money is on Cato," I said.

"Cato, really?" Caesar interjected.

"Yeah. Of the two, I think he's the stronger contender. But, if you're the gambling type, I wouldn't rule out the girl from Five, or possibly Katniss from Twelve," I said.

"Katniss, really…that's surprising. It seems like everyone in the arena is gunning for her, and that doesn't usually end well. And besides, Twelve hasn't won in twenty-four years," Caesar said.

"Exactly! They're due for a win," I said with a chuckle. "I don't know why I think that, but if I wanted to put some serious money on an underdog win, that's where I'd put it. Of course, I'm not allowed to bet," I added hastily. It wasn't true. I knew exactly why I'd put money on Katniss. She seemed determined to survive, no matter what the cost. I'd seen it too many times to discount it so easily.

"No, you're not, and I'm afraid that's all the time we have. Ladies and gentlemen, Arista Waters!" he said. The lights dimmed as the cameras stopped filming. A producer took my mike and pointed me in the direction of the wings. I was free.

My body went on autopilot. I didn't have to smile anymore or pretend to be happy. I just marched out of the building and onto the street, pausing to sign a few autographs. I made a beeline for the Winner's Circle and perched myself on my favorite stool. I didn't even need to say a word. Charlie, the barkeep, pulled out a glass and poured my favorite strong liquor. I poured the shot down my throat, ignoring the burn as it went down, and slammed the glass down on the table.

"Hit me again, Charlie," I said. He poured another one, and we continued this pattern for several shots. Finally, I paused after putting the glass down.

"Another?" Charlie asked. I winced slightly. The alcohol was working through my system, and the effects on my stomach weren't good. This is exactly the feeling I was seeking.

"No. Time to start cutting it," I replied. This was our annual ritual. I'd drink as many shots as I could stomach, then switch to booze cut with soda. He poured my drink and left me alone. The Games were playing on the televisions in the bar, and I glanced up to try to follow the action. They've stopped replaying Coral's death…for now. Instead, they're focused on the remaining Careers, nursing their wounds. I can see them passing around a silver pot. Someone must have been able to get antivenom to them…Belladonna, most likely.

I stared into my glass, pushing the ice cubes around. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my dolphin-vial pendant appear, in a distinctly male hand. I followed the line of the arm it was attached to up to Finnick's face.

"Thought you could use this," he said. I have no idea how he got his hands on it, and quite frankly, I didn't care. I ripped it open and took a huge hit of the Tranquilite.

"Thanks," I said, replacing the stopper. Once again, I could feel it course through my veins, and my misery had become somewhat manageable again. We sat in total silence, not sure what to say to each other.

"Arista I'm not mad…" Finnick began.

"Finnick, I'm sorry…" I said at the exact same moment.

"Go ahead," he said.

"I'm sorry. You were right. I sold you out, and I should have told you," I said. Finnick shrugged.

"I've had a few days to think about it. It's ok, Arista," he said.

"Really?" I asked in disbelief.

"There's only one winner, remember? You were doing whatever it took to get Coral home, and as a fellow Mentor, I respect that. We decided a long time ago that we wouldn't let the Games affect our friendship," he said.

"Yeah, a lot of good it did me," I said, running a hand through my perfectly styled hair. "She still died in there."

"But she didn't die here," he said, placing a finger on my chest, over my heart. We shared more drinks, toasting those who were gone from this year and years past, although Finnick was drinking at a much slower pace than me. I wanted oblivion. I _needed_ oblivion. Several hours later, I had had enough of the bar. I slid off my stool with the intention of walking back to the Training Center to sleep it off. When I got to my feet, the room spun, and I grabbed onto Finnick for support.

"Finnick…I don't feel so good…." I said. I felt my body move and braced myself for the impact of the floor that never came.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up on my bed at the Training Center, still fully clothed. A glance at the clock told me that almost a full day had passed since Coral died. I showered and dressed casually. My role in the Games was over until the final ceremonies, but there was still work to be done. I padded down the hall to the rooms where the tributes had slept while they were here. I paused at Coral's door and braced myself for the onslaught of emotions that was about to hit me. I opened it, and it was exactly as she had left it. The bed was made, but in her rush the morning of the Launch, she had left her pajamas on the floor. I knew they weren't really hers; all of the clothes were furnished by the Capitol, but I picked them up anyway. I could still see her wearing them in my mind's eye. I put them in the hamper to be recycled to some other tribute later. On top of the dresser, I found what I was really looking for – the recorder.

I picked up the small black box and sat on the bed, turning it over in my hands. By the time the Games began, I genuinely liked her. She may have been cocky and headstrong at the beginning, but deep down, she was seeking what we all were – love. But unlike me, she thought the only way to win her parents' love was to win the Games. I had to listen to the recording so I would know who to give it to when we got home. Steeling myself against my own grief, I pressed the play button and Coral's sweet voice filled the room.

"_Hey, Arista. If you're hearing this, then I didn't make it, and it looks like we won't be neighbors in the Victor's Village. It's the night before the Games, and I'm scared. I mean, really scared. All my life, I've trained for the Games, and now that it's time, I don't know if I can do it. Of all the people I know, you and Finnick are the only ones who understand what it's like to be right here, in this moment. I wish I could tell you all of this in person, but I think you might be asleep right now, and I don't want to bother you."_

"You could have woken me up," I told the recorder, as if she could somehow hear me.

"_First of all, I want to apologize. I'm sorry I thought you were such a bitch when we met. I don't want to die. I thought I was prepared for it, but I want to be on the train with you when we go back to Four. I'm glad that we had the chance to know each other. I never got a chance to tell you this, but you were always my hero when I was a kid. I wanted to be just like you when I grew up." _Now the tears fell freely. I missed this kid, and all she wanted was to be like me. Then again, after what I've been through, perhaps she was better off wherever she was.

"_I know you said that you would pass this message to anyone I wanted. I left a message for my mom, too, just in case, and I hope you'll get it to her. Scratch that, I know you will. No matter what, I'm proud that I can now say that I was mentored by Arista Waters. Take care, and we'll meet again on the other side." _The recorder went silent. That was it. She only left messages for two people in the world, and I was one of them. I sat in Coral's room weeping for her life cut short until I heard the phone ring in my own room. I raced down the hall to grab it.

"Arista Waters," I answered.

"Hey, Arista. It's Finnick. I'm at the Winner's Circle, and there's a very interesting woman here who would like to meet with you, and I think you should listen," he said.

_**What? Who is this mysterious woman who wants to meet with Arista? And I hope you all cried at Coral's message…I wrote it with tears streaming down my cheeks!**_

_**Love it? Hate it? Review it!**_


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

"What do you want, Finnick?" I whined as soon as I crossed the threshold of the Winner's Circle. I didn't want to be here; I just wanted to be back in our room in the Training Center, wallowing in my own self-pity for not being able to save Coral's life.

"Good afternoon to you, too," he replied, hinting that I was being rude. "By the way, you look like hell." I hadn't bothered to do much more than throw on clothes – rumpled clothes from the floor at that – so I was pretty sure my curly hair was sticking in all kinds of strange directions, and there wasn't a drop of make-up on my face. Somehow, I expected a little more sympathy from him, though. Usually he's smart enough to just leave me alone after the Games. Usually.

"Gee, thanks," I snorted back. "So are you just going to insult me all day, or did you actually need me for something?" I asked, crossing my arms. I still hadn't budged from the doorway because if he was just going to take pot shots at me all day, well, I just wasn't in the mood.

"I'm sorry, Arista," he said genuinely.

"Whatever. Let's just get this meeting over with," I said, not even bothering to hide my annoyance.

"Come with me," he said. He led me to a booth in the back of the bar, hidden deep in the shadows. A human form was hunched over the table, wrapped almost entirely in garments of dingy gray, including the head. I couldn't tell if it was male or female, but the spindly fingers on the glass in front of the form had a distinctly feminine appearance. This must be the mysterious woman Finnick wanted me to meet. The head lifted, and only the eyes were visible. The form gestured to the other side of the booth.

"Ms. Waters, please, join me." Definitely female. Finnick slid into the booth, and I slipped in next to him. Perhaps it was rude of him not to let me go first, but I liked to be in a position where I could leave with few obstacles if I had to. Always.

"Have we met before?" I asked, signaling to Charlie for a drink. The nice thing about this particular bar is that Charlie knew my order by heart. When the waiter had delivered a second drink for Finnick and a first for me, she removed the part of her scarf that covered her face.

"No, we haven't, but I've been following your career for a very long time," she said. I rolled my eyes. What the hell was Finnick up to? Was this a fan? I wasn't in the mood to be gracious and kind and inspiring today. Today, I just wanted to cry.

"A lot of people have," I said, shooting Finnick a look of pure hatred.

"I know about Snow," she said bluntly. That was a secret. No one…and I mean _no one_…knew about Snow, with the exception of Finnick, Haymitch, and Snow himself. "Tell me, Arista, what does he make you do? Hm? Does he beat you? Humiliate you? Make you do things too embarrassing to talk about?" She spoke calmly, deliberately. I sat, completely stoic, except for the moisture in my eyes I was trying to fight.

"Who are you?" I whispered. She smiled and looked down.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Suffice it to say, you aren't the only Victor he's…taken his pleasure from," she said. Well, thanks. I mean, I had always speculated that he was abusing most of us…or at least the ones who were still young and attractive, but she didn't have to _say _it. And it was better not knowing because then I could still look my friends in the eye. I wonder if he ever managed to get to Joanna…even after he had her family murdered. Maybe she was lucky; maybe that's why she seemed so free.

"How long are you going to let him keep doing this to you?" she asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I answered. I stood, ready to leave, to just go back to the Training Center and bury myself in sorrow. One of her hands shot out at lightning speed, grabbing my wrist.

"I think you do. And I think you're tired of the Games and everything that's associated with them," she said, piercing me with her pale, steel gray eyes. I felt a chill rip through me.

"What I want doesn't matter," I snapped back.

"There's a way, Arista. There's a way to ensure the safety of everyone you care about, and to put a stop to the Games," she said. Was she serious? I could get away from these damn Games forever? I could stop watching children die year after year after damn year? No, of course there wasn't. But, that didn't mean I couldn't let my imagination go for just a little while. I sat back down.

"One more time, who are you?" I asked. She held up her hand.

"All in due time, My Dear. Let me ask you something. What do you know about the rebellion that sparked the Treaty of the Treason?" she asked. I narrowed my eyes. _Everyone_ knew about that. It was read every single year at the reaping.

"Thirteen districts rose up against the Capitol in rebellion. They failed, and surrendered, but not before the Capitol had obliterated District Thirteen. That region is still uninhabitable. Something about radiation or toxic air. The remaining twelve districts came back under the rule of the Capitol, each specializing in a particular industry. In order to serve as an annual reminder of the how precarious the peace is, we play the Hunger Games," I said, summarizing pretty much my entire education in a few sentences.

"So none of those Districts can survive independently, right?" she said. I shrugged. I hadn't really thought about it much. But we were District Four, Fishing. We could feed ourselves, but we couldn't generate our own energy or transportation.

"I suppose…but we don't need to," I said. She ignored my last comment.

"But if the Districts united, you would have enough resources to sustain everyone, right?" she asked. I wasn't sure I liked where this conversation was going.

"You _do_ realize that we could be convicted of treason, simply for having this conversation, right?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. Once again, she ignored me.

"It's the ones like you two, who have personally seen the horrors of the Hunger Games that could make that change," she said. "You all know…and trust…each other. You could easily rally your Districts, and yet you don't. You allow your children to be slaughtered in the same manner they tried to slaughter you. The people of the Districts adore you; they respect you. If you called for a revolution, as a single, solid unit, you could overthrow the Capitol and put an end to this once and for all." I remembered the last time I defied Snow and tried to use my popularity to my advantage. All I got was the hell beaten out of me. I shook my head.

"No. I've done absolutely everything I could to keep my family safe, and they would be the first targets. I won't risk their lives with some foolhardy rebellion," I said. Enough was enough. I could live with things the way they were right now. It wasn't so bad. I had to go to the Games once a year, but so what? Four to six weeks of hell was worth being able to live the rest of the year in peace.

"Arista, think about it. She's right…_we _could work together, formulate a plan, right here, right now, before it's too late. We may never have to see a Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games," Finnick said. Maybe I wasn't paying enough attention to him. He still had hope. He hadn't yet completely resigned himself to our fate, even after all these years. But I had. I knew exactly what my job was. I was just another Capitol puppet, and as long as I did that well, my family and I would want for nothing.

Damn it.

"Who _are_ you?" I asked again.

"You haven't been told the whole story. District Thirteen wasn't destroyed. In fact, they were liberated," she said. I shook my head.

"Wait…wait…that doesn't make sense. I've seen the footage on television. It's nothing but smoldering ashes," I said, fairly confident this woman was insane.

"No. There's another treaty between the Capitol and District Thirteen. The District was completely cut off from Panem entirely, and the rest of the population was told that it had been destroyed. In actuality, they were left to rebuild their society, as long as their existence wasn't revealed to the rest of the population," she said.

"Why would they do that instead of just dropping fire bombs on the District?" I asked. It didn't make strategic sense.

"Because District Thirteen pointed their nuclear weapons at the Capitol and threatened to fire," she said matter-of-factly.

"But Thirteen were graphite miners…" I said, trying to find holes in her argument.

"That's what you've been told. That's what the Capitol wants you to believe," she answered. "It's true that there were mines, but not enough for an entire industry. Their real purpose was weaponry. The Capitol had Thirteen working on building the most advanced weapons in the world so that no one would ever challenge the superiority of Panem. They just never expected the researchers to turn their discovery against their own country." It made sense. In fact it made too much sense.

"Do you have any proof of your claims?" I asked.

"Certainly. The proof is that I've lived my entire life in District Thirteen," she said.

"What?" I asked.

"My name is Alma Coin. I'm the President of District Thirteen," she said.

_**So, what's Arista going to do now? Join the rebellion? Hold back? Side with the Capitol (safety) or go along with an all out rebellion (risk)? **_

_**Love it? Hate it? Review it!**_


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

"You're joking, right?" I scoffed, leaning back in the booth. "You really expect me to believe that the Capitol has been concealing the existence of an entire District, for what? What purpose could that possibly serve?" Coin stirred the mug in front of her before she spoke.

"Think about it, Arista. The way that you've been raised gives you every reason in the world believe that the Capitol is invincible. The existence of District Thirteen proves, without a doubt, that the Capitol is flawed. One District managed escape the tyranny. That one District could easily be an example for the others to follow." I considered her words carefully. Yes, it's true that the Capitol has always been considered too powerful to ever defy. The very thought of rebellion in and of itself had a futile vibe to it.

"What you're asking me...us...to do is treason," I reminded her.

"Perhaps. But I'm also asking you to end the barbaric process that involves the death of 23 children for entertainment. Look," she said, pointing to the giant screen in the bar. They were highlighting an even that must have taken place not long after Coral's death.

_"Where is she, Lover Boy?" _Clove screamed at Peeta. _"Where is that pest from Twelve?"_

_"I don't know!" _ Peeta exclaimed. Cato and Clove were standing over him while Cato held a sword to him, pinning him against a large boulder.

_"You went back after the tracker jacker attack. Why did you go back?" _Clove spat.

_"I was trying to kill her, ok? I want her dead just as much as you do!" _Peeta fought back. And yet, he seemed to know that his time was drawing near. He looked panicked.

_"I don't think so, Twelve. I think you were trying to protect your little girlfriend,"_ Cato piped up. With that, Cato lunged for Peeta with the sword. Peeta dodged and managed to get away, but not before Cato left him with a sickening gash on his leg. Cato started to charge after him, but Clove held him back.

_"Let him go,"_ she said. _"He's as good as dead, anyway. We have bigger threats to deal with."_

"It's happening right now, at this very moment. While we sit here over drinks, that poor boy is lying the an arena, fighting for his life. The Capitol could save him in a matter of minutes, but they won't, because it would spoil their fun. What sort of civilized society behaves in this manner? And what makes you think you won't be next?" Coin finished. I turned back at her and glared.

"I was there once. Don't you _dare_ accuse me of not understanding the Games," I warned.

"You may understand the Games, but I don't think you realize how big of a threat you actually are. Each year, another Victor brings hope to another District, and each year, the pool of surviving Victors increases by one. Given enough time, that group becomes large enough to be a legitimate threat to Snow. You may behave yourself, and he could still come after you," Coin challenged. She took a deep breath. "Look, I don't expect you to make a decision tonight, but I will tell you this. The next time you see District Thirteen on television, look at the upper right-hand corner. The same mockingjay always flies through the shot," she said. I furrowed my brow. "Because they're recycling the footage. It will confirm what I've been telling you. Anyway, here's the phone number of someone who knows how to reach me. If you change your mind, and decide you've had enough, call me," she said. Then she slipped out of the booth, raced for the exit and disappeared onto the sidewalk.

"I told her you'd be one of the more difficult ones to convince," Finnick said, fiddling with his straw.

"So you think this is a _good_ idea?" I asked. I ran my hands over my face trying to figure out who this person impersonating Finnick was, because the real Finnick would know that such a ridiculous plan was suicide. "I don't even know where to begin." Finnick shrugged.

"Just think about it. If we could succeed, Annie and I wouldn't have to hide anymore." He paused before looking right at me. "And neither would you and Haymitch." That stung. It was like he had plunged a wooden stake through my already broken heart. I couldn't do this. I just couldn't. The next thing I knew, I was racing out of the bar, letting my feet carry me almost of their own accord back to the Training Center. Once I was safely inside the comfort of the District Four apartment, I collapsed on my bed and sobbed harder than I had in a very long time.

Part of it was Coral's death. I felt like I failed again, and I genuinely missed the kid. Even though I knew this was part of the Games, there was always a part of me that was reluctant to admit that my tributes were gone. Wiped off the face of the planet for eternity. It would become real enough at the funeral. But the other part was that Finnick was dangling a sense of hope in front of me like the most beautiful carrot in the world. I had accepted long ago, when Haymitch and I first crossed the line from friendship into romance that we never had a real future together. I had planned to live a quiet life in Four with my parents, content to see him secretly during the Games and, if we were really lucky, on a Victory Tour if Twelve or Four managed to win.

But now I was beyond all of that. If I was truly honest with myself, I would have admitted that I wanted to be with him as…dare I actually hoped…his wife. I wasn't sure whether that particular daydream made me happy or scared the hell out of me. I had never seen myself as the marrying type, until now, and only with Haymitch. He was the only one in my life, other than Finnick, who understood what it was like to watch these damn Games year after year and play the part we played.

I cried until there was nothing left in me anymore. Because when all was said and done, I couldn't be a rebel. What about my parents? What about my brother? What about everyone in Four? The Capitol would surely take revenge on the innocent, and I couldn't allow that to happen. If they wanted to kill me, so be it. I was just a shell of a human being anymore, incapable of any true happiness, but the Capitol was far crueler than that. They would allow me to live, but continue to hurt me in the worst ways possible.

When I finally exhausted my tears, I got up to go to the bathroom, and that was when I noticed a piece of paper sitting on my desk. Dear God, that man had the absolute worst timing ever. I picked it up and my suspicions were immediately confirmed.

_Usual place, 9:00 tonight. CS_

Damn him.

I was almost expecting this, as he had a habit of summoning me shortly after my tribute was eliminated. The only year I had gotten a reprieve was when Annie Cresta had won because there simply wasn't time between the end of the Games and the departure of the train. But this was new to me. Usually Haymitch lost his tributes before I lost mine, but he was still stuck in the Mentor's Box. I knew with Katniss showing the sort of promise she did that he would stay there until the bitter end, and he wouldn't be here to comfort me after Snow took what he wanted.

Oh, he was in a mood tonight. The minute I got my clothes off, he threw me against the wall, wrapped his belt around my neck, and squeezed so hard I thought he just might kill me.

"What the hell is going on in there? Huh?" he roared.

"I…I don't know!" I coughed out. I had no idea what he was so upset about.

"One. Two. Four. Those are the ones who are supposed to win, and yet Twelve is making a mockery of all of you," he seethed. I swallowed, acutely aware of the increased level of difficulty. He pushed into me – hard – and I tried to yelp, but I didn't have enough air.

"She'll die. Cato…will…get her," I managed to eek out. Secretly, I was almost hoping she would win, just to rub it in Snow's face. I also knew how dangerous that was.

"He better," Snow warned before he bit my skin behind my ear. I heard him groan as his thrusts increased in intensity. I wanted to be anywhere but here. Mentally, I wasn't. I let my mind wander back to my house in Four, picturing Haymitch there with me, and my parents running the fishery like they used to. That daydream gave me something to focus on while I forced pleasurable sounds for Snow's benefit. He finally finished, and I started to head back to the Training Center. At the last second, I changed my mind and turned towards the Winner's Circle, where I knew Charlie would be waiting to see me.

"Arista, come on in back," Charlie said the minute I entered the bar. It was quiet in here tonight. No tributes must have died today. I followed Charlie into the small room he used as an office and waited for him to remove the false panel just underneath the desk. He pulled out a package roughly the size of a good sized lobster and a syringe.

"Here ya go," he said handing me the package, which I set in my lap as I rolled up my sleeve. He gave me the injection quickly, minimizing the pain from the prick of the needle. "That should last you the year. It's about 4 kilos. If you need more, you know how to reach me, and I have my ways of smuggling stuff into the Districts."

Charlie had been supporting my Tranquilite habit for years now, and he always had a similar package waiting for me. I think I would have gone as mad as Annie without him and his willingness to smuggle drugs. He didn't do it just for me; I know of many Victors who obtained illegal substances from Charlie. Mostly morphling, but Tranquilite and other drugs, too. As for the injection, that was to ensure that Snow never managed to create any offspring with me. Rumor had it that other female Victors had been pregnant with his children, who were sold to Capitol citizens unable to have their own children. The rumors implied that the offspring of the President of Panem and a Victor sold for top dollar. I didn't know if it was true or not, but when I asked Charlie if he could help me out fourteen years ago, he had come through again.

As I walked back to the Training Center, I started thinking again. Maybe a rebellion wasn't a completely crazy idea. In fact, it was a wonderful idea. Unfortunately, I could also see that it was destined to fail. Even if this Alma Coin had been completely truthful, she wasn't in my shoes. She couldn't see just how badly I needed my family in order to maintain my grip on reality, and that I would never, ever do anything to risk their safety.

_**Thanks for the reviews, guys! I'm struggling right now because not much is happening in the Games. However, my goal is to complete the "Hunger Games" portion of the story by the time the Catching Fire Movie is released.**_

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	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

The next few days after the tracker jacker attack are a blur. I sought refuge in a dark corner booth at the Winner's Circle, and between the Tranquilite, the booze, and the small tastes of morphling I managed to score, my consciousness was in a place of total and complete numbness. The bar could have exploded around me, and I would have had no idea. Charlie was used to this, but usually, Haymitch was passing out right next to me.

I vaguely remember taking stock of the games, and learning that Katniss had destroyed the cache of supplies the Careers had stockpiled, resulting in the death of the boy from District 3. Qwerty's tribute. That explained why she suddenly appeared on a bar stool on the other side of the room. I just didn't care anymore. I wanted these stupid Games to be over so I could go back home again, not that home would dull the pain any more than it did here. At least I felt reasonably safe at home.

Safety. It's something so many people take for granted. Within the confines of the Districts, to those who never leave the Districts, it's easy to feel like your little corner of the world is protected. But here in the Capitol, I never feel safe. Perhaps because the first time I was here, I was tossed into the arena, or perhaps that after I came out, I realized there was a far more sinister side to the politics of the Games than I ever dreamed.

I must have passed out in the booth again because the next thing I knew, Finnick was shaking me awake.

"God, go away, Finnick…" I mumbled through my haze.

"Arista, get up, NOW. You have to see this," he said, continuing his violent assault on my dream world.

"I don't care, and you don't either. We're done," I mumbled, slapping him away again.

"Fine. But Twelve just gave the Capitol the finger," he said. That got my attention. I cracked my eyes open.

"…what?" I struggled to ask.

"Get up," he said again, pulling me to a sitting position in the booth. I turned my head towards the monitors, airing the Games footage. Oh. That poor little 12-year-old had fallen. Time to buy Seeder that drink, as soon as she showed up.

And then I something extremely unusual play out on the screen. Katniss decorated the body, careful not to leave it alone long enough for it to be removed from the arena. The flowers she placed around the girl were humanizing her, instead of playing towards the image of her being just another piece in the Games. None of these kids were real to anyone but their families; they were just pawns. They were never really alive, and they never really died. No one mourned a tribute.

As Katniss left the body, she pressed three fingers to her lips, then deliberately raised them towards a camera – the same gesture her District had given her.

"Fuck…" I muttered under my breath.

"It gets worse," Finnick said. "The Capitol is trying to quash the reports, but the underground circuit is reporting that Eleven just rioted. It's pandemonium out there…Peacekeepers overthrown, Capitol representatives executed…"

"Because their tribute died? Oh, come on, this is absurd. Tributes have been dying in the arena for seventy-four years; this is nothing new. Now, go on, go do…whatever you do after the Games and leave me in peace," I snapped.

"Seeder was arrested," he said flatly. I literally felt the blood drain from my face.

"Why?" I asked, barely able to breath.

"Because they think she had something to do with the riot. We just better hope nothing happens in Four before we get home. The way the military is scrambling, I doubt there will be much left of Eleven by the time we get home," he said. There was more, but he didn't have to say it. The rest of us would have to launch a revolution if Eleven was to be spared. I wouldn't put it past Snow to obliterate an entire District just to prove a point.

I looked at the screen again, altering the scenario slightly. If Coral had been twelve, and formed a friendship with Katniss, how would I react after seeing something like that?

I'd be pissed.

But more than that, I'd see Katniss as a genuinely good human being, who did everything she could to take care of my tribute right up until the moment of her death. So where would my anger really be directed? Towards the tribute who slaughtered my tribute? No. Towards the Games themselves? Not really. Towards the Capitol? Absolutely. And if that's how _I _would feel, then perhaps there were others who would feel the same way too, and unbeknownst to her, Katniss had just become a symbol of revolution. That also meant that the Gamemakers would do anything in their power to make sure she was eliminated.

I had to talk to Haymitch.

I struggled to get to my feet, closing my eyes as a wave of dizziness passed through me, staying on my own two feet out of pure stubbornness alone. I fished around for my badge to navigate the levels of security to the Mentor's Box, and even in my inebriated state, I was focused enough on the task at hand. I scanned the Box quickly. Belladonna and Scar were off in the far corner, whispering and gesturing erratically. As the last two of our alliance, I was almost certain they were trying to devise a winning strategy that guaranteed a victory for Two. Chaff was still glued to his monitor, watching as Thresh carefully avoided populated areas in the arena. A mentor from Five was asleep on one of the cots, and then there was Haymitch, who looked harried and defeated, but yet there was still a flicker of hope in him, despite what his hunched over posture indicated. I walked up behind him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey…" I said. He looked over at me, with tired, bloodshot eyes.

"They're still alive. Both of them," he muttered.

"I know," I said, carefully slipping into the chair next to him. An uncomfortable silence swelled between us. "They saw what Katniss did when Rue died, and it's hit all the airwaves." I studied his response. He gave me a barely imperceptible nod, and if I listened close enough, I'd swear I could hear gears turning in his head.

"She humanized Rue," he said flatly. I nodded. He rubbed his face with his hand. "She has no idea…she didn't know…all she wants…"

"Is to go home. I know," I finished.

"How bad?" he asked. I fiddled with a loose piece of leather on the chair.

"Eleven rioted. Seeder was arrested immediately after her interview and taken in for questioning," I explained.

"They're going to take it out on the rest of the Districts," he filled in. Again I nodded.

"Haymitch, I have no idea what's going on, but I do know that there's a conspiracy to unite the Victors into some sort of revolution and end the Capitol's reign once and for all," I told him.

"There's been talk of that for years," he said in the same flat tone.

"Then why haven't I heard any of this before?" I asked.

"Because. You're a Career," he said, finally looking at me. I opened my mouth and took several deep breaths before I could respond to that.

"No, I'm not. I'm just a poor girl from Four who's doing whatever the hell she can to save a life," I told him.

"I know that, but the impression is that you'd be one of the harder ones to persuade. So Four has been out of the loop along with One and Two," he said.

"You want a _revolt_?" I asked, careful to keep my tone to a whisper. He fiddled with his nails before he finally answered.

"I want to stop seeing people dead on the side of the road in Twelve from starvation, only they never call it that. I want to stop seeing kids killed for amusement, but most importantly, I want a shot at happiness with the woman I would die for, but I can't be with her because she's…" He scoffed lightly. "…just a poor girl from Four."

I turned my head back towards the screen.

"I don't expect you to go along with any of this, and I would never ask that of you. Anyone who actively revolts against the State will be considered a terrorist at best and a traitor at worst, and they won't hesitate to torture or kill loved ones to get to a target. Your parents and your brother still need you to be Panem's Sweetheart for as long as possible," he explained.

"Why do I feel like you know what's going on in my head before I do?" I asked. He placed his hand on top of mine and gave it a brief squeeze.

"The same way you know what's going on in mine," he said. He paused, looking back at the screen. "She's given the people something to rally around. If she dies in there, any hope of change in gone," he said.

All of a sudden, I wanted Katniss Everdeen to win the 74th Annual Hunger Games.

"There will come a time when you will have to choose a side. No matter which side you choose, I will always love you, Arista," he said as his eyes bore into mine. "And I would _never_ hold your choice against you." He was giving me permission to be a coward and protect my family, but he had made his choice.

He was working with Coin.

_**Happy Hunger Games, everyone! So, I didn't meet my deadline of finishing Part One before the release of Catching Fire, but we're close. Enjoy the movie. **___

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	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

I splashed my face with cold water to chase the sleep and nightmares from my chemically rattled brain. I needed to go see Haymitch again. I knew I was risking our carefully concealed relationship every time I went back to the Training Center, but fuck it. Our tributes had been in an alliance, plus Two was still in it. If anyone asked, well, I was just doing what I could to ensure an ally won, since it couldn't be me.

When I got to the Training Center, Haymitch was slumped in his chair, doing his best to stave off the sleep that threatened to pull his attention away from his tributes. His hair was greasy and scraggly, and the bags under his eyes made his hangovers seem positively fresh. But he was like me...he wouldn't sleep until...until it was over.

"Hey..." I said softly, coming up behind him. He took my hand, squeezed it, and smiled.

"One of her sponsors has some pull with one of the Gamemakers. They're milking this 'star crossed lover' thing for all it's worth," he said, exhausted. I looked at the screens in front of him that bore almost identical images. Yes, I had heard about the rule change, but experience had taught me never to trust a Gamemaker. At this point, the only way there would be two Victors this year is if Cato and Clove or Katniss and Peeta were the last two standing, and I was pretty sure at this point that there were plans in the Gaming Center to take out half of each pair; I just had no way to anticipate what sort of form that horror might take.

"That cut on Peeta's leg is going to kill him. He looks like he's trying to fight off one hell of an infection," I remarked.

"Yeah...I've sent them soup, but that's all I can...there's not much left," he said. He didn't have to say anything more. I knew Twelve was poor; they never drummed up much in the way of sponsors, partly due to Haymitch's lack of charisma, but mostly because the tributes from Twelve never showed enough promise or provided much entertainment to the Capitol. They were one of the forgotten districts, killed early on during a major bloodbath to get to the real action.

"Haymitch, give me your headset," I told him, holding out my hand. He stared at me questioningly while he handed over the device. I clipped it to my ear and activated the mouthpiece.

"This is Arista Waters, District Four. Transfer all unused funds from my account to District Twelve. Haymitch Abernathy has the right to divide the funds at his discretion between the two remaining tributes," I said calmly. Haymitch's jaw dropped slowly. My gesture of compassion may have just changed the outcome of the Games, but there was no way we'd ever know for sure.

"You realize you may have just gotten yourself killed," he told me. I unclipped the headset and handed it back to him.

"It doesn't matter. I should have died in the arena in 59. Every day since then has been both a gift and a form of punishment. If money will save the lives of someone you care about, well, that's worth it to me," I said. He clipped the headset back onto his body and did a balance check on his tribute accounts. When the numbers came in, I swear, for just a second, there was a tear of gratitude in his eye. He clipped the button, with a request for medicine on his lips when suddenly, the lights in the Mentor's Box dimmed and a klaxon blared, signaling a game changing announcement.

_"Attention, Mentors. Sponsor gifts are banned from the arena for the next twenty-four hours in preparation for a Feast. Any attempt to aid your tribute over the next twenty-four hours will result in immediate disqualification. There will be no further announcements," _the voice blared.

"Yeah, I figured they'd do something like that," I said. "They don't take too kindly to us changing the rules ourselves. Of course, _they_ can change them anytime they damn well feel like it."

"Still...he's survived longer than he should have. If they survive the Feast, I can still help them. I just hope they don't do anything stupid," he said with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. I liked seeing him this way, with something positive to break up the futility of his moods.

"Haymitch...one of them has to die. You know that, right?" I asked him. "There's no way they're going to let two tributes win."

"I know, I know, but...I've been studying them. They build each other up. Yes, Arista, one of them will die, and I don't know who that will be. But Katniss is strong enough to take Cato and Clove out of the running, and there's a good chance on of them will get to Peeta first, or he could die tonight. And if it comes down to that..."

"She could win the whole damn thing," I whispered. Haymitch ran a hand through his hair.

"I've never had a Victor," he said. He deserved it. I remembered when Annie Cresta won her Games. The spotlight wasn't on me, and that was just fine. It shifted over to her as the newest Victor from Four. Of course, I had quickly realized that sweet, loving Annie Cresta hadn't come out of the arena completely unscathed. No, it had affected her far worse than any other Victor in the history of the Games to the point where she still had vivid flashbacks. Over time, Mags, Finnick, and I had all learned how to keep her on this side of sanity, but it was a constant battle for Annie.

Even still, a victory meant the District would be showered with gifts and favoritism from the Capitol for the next year. No one in Twelve would starve this year if Haymitch succeeded, and whichever tribute came out would never know poverty again. There was always a price to pay for the Capitol's affections, but whoever that was would join our elite little group of tortured souls soon enough. And, in the manner of our silent, unspoken promise, any survivor of the Hunger Games was one of us, and this was a group who looked after it's own.

"You look like you could use a nap," I told Haymitch. Since there was no way to provide aid for the next twenty-four hours, this was as good a time as any for him to get some much needed sleep.

"I...I can't...not while..." he stumbled.

"I'll watch while you sleep. If anything happens, I'll wake you immediately," I said.

He squeezed my hand and headed for one of the cots in the back of the Mentor's Box, trusting me to keep watch over his tributes. In this manner, I felt somewhat like an angel, keeping watch over the girl who could very well deliver the districts of Panem into a new era of freedom.

_**Love it? Hate it? Review it!**_


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

I spent hours watching Katniss tend to Peeta and fret over his declining health. Judging by how often I had seen tributes die from infection, I knew that he didn't have much longer, but he would definitely last until the blasted restrictions were lifted and we could send the medication directly into the arena. This could be fun for a while, I suppose. I had a gut feeling that what the Capitol really wanted in the end was a showdown between a single district. They didn't care who made it to the final two - well, Snow cared, but the rest of the Capitol didn't - as long as those final two were from the same district. It was a twist on the Games that had never been seen as far as I knew. Two tributes standing, each from the same district. Two tributes who had been allies up to that point and would now have to battle to the death in order to be declared the sole Victor. It was brilliant, and if I was sitting at home watching the Games, back in the days before they had claimed me for their own, I probably would have loved such a twist. The Treaty of Treason was explicit, though: there must be a single Victor.

"Why did you do that?" came a soft male voice, jolting me out of my thoughts.

"Hm? Do what?" I asked turning towards the voice. Chaff had taken up residence in the seat directly next to mine.

"You gave money to Twelve to save the boy. Why? It's not like you can bet on the Games," he said.

"I...I suppose I'm just testing the waters," I replied.

"Have you heard anything about Seeder?" he asked, cutting straight to the point.

"I know she was dragged in for questioning about that whole fiasco after her tribute died," I told him.

"She...They're trying to stick her with treason charges," he mumbled, wiping his face.

"I heard that there's been talk amongst the other Victors about..." I bit my lip, searching for the right words. I needed to know where Chaff stood, but I couldn't give away my own conflicted feelings on the matter. "...changing things." Chaff searched my face, his completely void of emotion much as I suspected mine was.

"Nothing serious. But yeah, I think we've all fantasized about what it would be like to live in a Panem that didn't have the Games. Or at least, not in the sense that they're played now," he confessed. Ok, that was about as non-committal as it got.

"Suppose it does happen," I began. "Suppose we were able to rally our respective districts and refuse to play these blasted Games anymore. What do you think that Panem would look like?" Chaff thought for a minute.

"I think some districts, like yours and mine would be ok. We make our own food. Sure, we may lack for coal to fuel our home or cloth to make clothes, but we would eat. Especially if we didn't have to send all of that food to the Capitol. I suspect that Four is much like Eleven. We grow more than enough crops to feed every man, woman, and child in our District, but the Capitol takes it all, leaving us the absolute bare minimum." I thought about the fishing industry in Four, and how many boatloads of seafood I saw gracing our shores every single day. If we had all of that fish, it would be too much. It would spoil before we could ever eat it all.

"If we didn't have to export everything to the Capitol, yes, we could feed ourselves. But, I think under those circumstances, the smart thing to do would be to trade with, say, Eleven for fruits and vegetables to supplement all of that protein." Chaff nodded slowly.

"And wouldn't it make sense for the districts like yours and mine to exchange small amounts of food with Eight for textiles and Twelve for coal." The look in his eyes told me that he had been thinking about this for far longer than I had.

"We wouldn't need the Capitol at all," I whispered. I smiled sadly. "It's a nice fantasy. But the last time the districts rose up against the Capitol, we got saddled with this," I said, gesturing towards the screens.

"The Districts need something to rally around, someone who can prove, without a doubt, that the Capitol is fallible. Without that proof, I'm afraid fear will prevent us from ever knowing the Panem we've all dreamt about," he answered. We both watched the screens in silence. After the incident with Seeder, it wouldn't take much to persuade Chaff to go along with just about anything that would piss the Capitol off. I knew he cared for her deeply, in much the same way that I cared about Finnick. There's a certain kind of bond that can't be explained when you work with someone in this situation for so long. It wasn't long before I heard the trumpets blare and the announcement of the Feast inside the arena. It was time to wake Haymitch.

I crept over to his bed, shook his shoulder gently, then jumped back to a safe distance. He sprung forward, attacking the air in front of him. For some reason, the thought crossed my mind that Finnick did the exact same thing when he was awoken from a sound sleep. I guess our bodies never fully leave our arenas.

"They just announced the Feast to the tributes," I told him. He nodded, shaking the sleep from his face and climbed out of the cot. He didn't sit, but instead headed over to the recently restocked refreshment table and poured himself a steaming cup of...something. We listened as Peeta begged Katniss not to go, and her arguing that she could make it. Finally, she relented, and agreed to stay in the cave.

"Good...good..." Haymitch said, almost trying to calm himself. He didn't have to say what we all knew. Yes, the Feast was punishment, in part to my sneer at the rules and transferring funds to Haymitch. Technically, it was allowed. Technically. But it was certainly frowned upon. Sponsorship was one of the many ways the Capitol could skew the Games, and I had just snubbed that advantage. But the other reason for the Feast was to draw the remaining tributes together in order to coax one or more of them into knocking a couple of the others out.

Katniss was smart, though. Judging by the way she scoffed at the announcement, I knew she was also familiar with this particular tactic of the Games. And yet, she wanted to get medicine for Peeta, deserately. I only wished there was a way we could send it in, or tell her to sit tight until the ban was over. And then, peculiarly, a silver parachute floated in and landed near Katniss. Every single Mentor in the room froz in momentary stunned silence. Scar was the first to react. He turned and lunged at Haymitch.

"How in the hell did you get something in there? What was it? Huh?" he yelled, pushing Haymitch up against the wall. Haymitch threw the brute off of him, and I maneuvered myself in between them. "Stop it, both of you! Scar, you know he didn't send anything in. He's been sleeping all day, and we would have heard him do it. His headset is still on the bed." Scar looked to verify my observation. There was Haymitch's headset, still completely untouched.

"They want her out," I said simply.

"What do you mean?" Scar asked, his anger still bubbling.

"Think about it. We've seen this before. Remember Titus? The boy who decided to cannibalize his victims? The Capitol didn't want some sort of maniac as their Victor, so they orchestrated that avalanche to take him out," I reasoned. "They always do that when someone doesn't follow 'sportsman-like' conduct. You know it as well as I do."

"I can't imagine how a girl from Twelve might piss them off," he said. "It's far more likely that Quell here found a way around the rules, just like he did in his own Games." I let the insult go.

"Scar, listen to me, ok? You know I'm usually right about these things. Right now, Twelve are the underdogs. Everyone LOVES an underdog, but Two is still intact, and both Cato and Clove could come through on this. I don't know what the hell is in that vial, but I'm pretty sure it isn't the medicine that Peeta needs. That medicine will be sitting at the Cornucopia. Whatever is in that bottle is designed to get Katniss out of hiding. Watch," I said, cuing up highlights from the Games thus far.

"She got an eleven in training. We all fell for it, and planned to take her out first. When that she slipped through our fingers, the Gamemakers sent in that wall of fire that herded her towards our tributes, who were itching to get rid of her. An eleven scared us," I glared at Scar, "_all_ of us." I fast forwarded to next clip. "Then she humanized Rue. At this point, for the sake of the nation, the best outcome here is for Clove or Cato to win the Games because they are the embodiment of what the Capitol wants from its Victors. And, if Cato and Clove had to duke it out between themselves, Seneca Crane just might get a bonus for this year." The screen in front of me went black. Scar took it what I had said and sneered.

"Looks like I'm bringing home a winner this year," he said with an evil grin.

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